


aut viam inveniam aut faciam

by stuckinabottle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Magical Band AU, Magical Tattoos, Mutual Pining, Stupidity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-19 08:03:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3602532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckinabottle/pseuds/stuckinabottle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Harry Styles, member of the W-pop sensation The Head Boys was seen leaving the boudoir of the heiress Persephone Greengrass this past Tuesday. Already getting frisky again? The pop star has charmed his way into the hearts of most young witches and warlocks, not to mention a few other famous witches and socialites, since the band's debut just a few years ago. No one can forget his dalliance with Taylor Swift, an American witch and all too famous musician. Be on the look out: The Head Boys's latest album 'Quattuor', aptly named as it is their fourth album, will be released soon. I've already heard "Ready to Fly," the third single off the album, and after the first two singles, Hex My Girl and Night Changes, which were real doozies, we here at The Daily Prophet are excited to hear the remainder of the tracks."</p><p>or the Magical Band AU you didn't know you needed until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	aut viam inveniam aut faciam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StormDancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormDancer/gifts).



> Dear Izzy, I hope this fulfills your prompt: Wizarding boyband AU for a megafamous boyband with Ravenclaw Zayn! Chock full of pining!Harry which I know you like. :)
> 
> First off I need to give a shout out to my non 1d af BFF Sarah who word played with me until we came up with the band name The Head Boys. There's a long list on my phone that has all the potential names. Hah!
> 
> Also, my beta J. Without you I would not have been able to write this monster. You were the best cheerleader and coach. Thanks!!
> 
> Disclaimer: I have made many changes to this fic to align it with canon. The fic was once a very different fic and I needed to change it. It was cathartic doing so. Thank you for reading.

..

 

"Harry Styles, member of the W-pop sensation The Head Boys was seen leaving the boudoir of the heiress Persephone Greengrass this past Tuesday. Already getting frisky again? The pop star has charmed his way into the hearts of most young witches and warlocks, not to mention a few other famous witches and socialites, since the band's debut just a few years ago. No one can forget his dalliance with Taylor Swift, an American witch and all too famous musician. Be on the look out: The Head Boys's latest album 'Quattuor', aptly named as it is their fourth album, will be released soon. I've already heard "Ready to Fly," the third single off the album, and after the first two singles, Hex My Girl and Night Changes, which were real doozies, we here at The Daily Prophet are excited to hear the remainder of the tracks."

 

..

 

The thing about The Head Boys is that only three of them were actually Head Boy during their schooling at Hogwarts. Louis Tomlinson, notorious Slytherin and heir to the Tomlinson fortune, by some miracle was Head Boy during his seventh year back when Harry, muggle born, had been an impressionable and stupid fourth year. Louis was probably the worst Head Boy Hogwarts had ever seen, but that didn't seem to stop him from continually worsening his reputation. And the next year, Zayn Malik, first in his family to attend Hogwarts (his elder sister Doniya opted for Beauxbatons) was Head Boy. Zayn Malik was famous for his dark, brooding looks paired with his sharp wit and intellect; surprising very few he was sorted into Ravenclaw. And finally, Liam Payne, prototypical Gryffindor, who blamed the time he fell off a toy broom as the reason he was held back a year, was Head Boy in Harry's penultimate year at Hogwarts. Harry and Niall Horan, to no one's great surprise, were never even bequeathed with the honor of becoming a prefect; so Head Boy was out of the question. Niall Horan, however, made a name for himself with his transfiguration skills. In his fourth year, he managed to perfect a surefire way to turn anything into a pint. For the longest time, the rag tag band consisting of Malik, Horan, Payne and Tomlinson that went under the name of Louis and the Tomlinsons practiced in the Room of Requirement. Zayn, who was the bassist and vocalist, happened to have a knack for finding the room. Louis played the drums while Liam Payne smashed it on the keyboard. Niall, well, he played guitar and drew in a lot of their fans. 

 

Harry fondly remembered the fateful day when he became the lead singer of The Head Boys. He had been looking for a new activity with which to occupy his time. Exploring the castle on his lonesome had lost its charm ever since Harry accidentally managed to wind up all the way by the Ravenclaw Tower near curfew. He was fourteen and mostly got by on chocolate frogs and the hope that the pretty Slytherin girl in his Potions class might let him cop a feel of her breasts. Overall, Harry was pretty lousy at everything. He was total shite at Quidditch and his participation in the school's frog choir wasn't really doing him any good. From his Muggle Studies class, Harry was pretty sure that guys in bands were always super popular. Plus he had been the biggest Weird Sisters fan since he discovered them his first year. He had even managed to see them the summer prior on one of their reunion tours. So Harry set out to form a band. Lucky for him, inter-house activities were highly encouraged, and as an eager and friendly Hufflepuff, Harry enlisted his friend Niall Horan, a fifth year to help. Niall played the guitar, which was a start, and as Harry soon found out, he was a member of a student band Louis and the Tomlinsons that sometimes even played at The Three Broomsticks. Anyways, Harry was a good singer and the band was looking for a new lead singer, so he joined. 

 

...

 

"Persephone Greengrass, really Styles?" said Louis with a hearty laugh. He downed a glass of fire whiskey, chortling to himself. He slammed the empty glass down on the wooden table. Harry winced.  It was a nice table. Well it used to be. Ever since Harry had opened up his own flat to host weekly band meetings he had a few more dents in his kitchen table than ever desired. Harry sometimes had the urge to snap Louis's wand right in two.  Louis sighed and said, "If you wanted to die of boredom I assure you that is the perfect choice." Harry frowned but didn't respond. He was much too used to Louis' crass remarks after being in a band with him for nearly four years now.

 

Persephone was a few years older than the boys. A Slytherin and Harry thinks she might have been friends with Louis, at least when they were in the lower years at Hogwarts. Harry wasn't really sure what had transpired there. But if she was boring, which in fact she was, Louis would have most definitely dropped her as a friend early on. 

 

"Persephone," said Niall thoughtfully, a hand under his chin, "Is she the one with the rather large you know?" He gestured animatedly to his chest, and waggled his eyebrows. He was sitting with his legs propped up on the table, and all the while he was wordlessly levitating random fruits and cutlery around the room. Niall had a tendency to do that whenever he was excited. Harry crossed his arms and sunk deeper into the chair's cushion. Persephone's breasts were admittedly rather large if he thought really hard about it, generally though he didn't. 

 

"Now, now," Liam chimed in resting his hands on Niall's shoulders and squeezing a couple of times. "We mustn't tease our Harry. Plus _The Daily Prophet_ has turned to total shit in the past few years...Harry, you can't be serious though?" 

 

Liam flipped the newspaper around so that the article was staring Harry right in the face. Well actually a picture of Harry was. The moving picture accompanying the article about him and Persephone showed him stuffing a pair of silk panties into his outer robe. His cheeks looked flushed and his shoulder length curly hair was blowing rather spectacularly in the wind. It was pretty clear, at least from the photograph, that Harry had just exited Persephone's house with her undergarments in hand, well, pocket rather. All together fairly incriminating. Harry was not as bothered by it as he should have been. He just shrugged.

 

"Oi, is Zayn coming over soon? Let's get this meeting on the road. Is he sending his patronus over or something?" asked Liam thoughtfully; changing the subject after a tense silence had filled the room. Harry smiled internally. Liam was such a quintessential Gryffindor sometimes, barreling through awkward situations with no fear. Also Harry happened to love Zayn's patronus, it was one of the most impressive ones he had seen cast by a non-Auror.  A graceful, silver, majestic, tiger that had a quietness and stillness to its movements that reminded Harry so much of Zayn. Harry had only had the pleasure of seeing it a handful of times, but each time he wished to burn the very sight of it into his eyelids. 

 

There was a clattering of books falling over and an "oof" noise that echoed from Harry's living room. "That'll be him," said Louis, a small grin coming onto his face. The corners of Harry's mouth turned upwards before he could stop himself. Zayn always did know how to make an entrance even if they couldn't see him. Harry must have forgotten to clear out his floo. Hardly no one used it after all. Even though Zayn could apparate, and did so in rare circumstances, he preferred not to. Mostly used the floo to get around. Said something about the way his stomach twisted and lurched; it didn't sit well with him. Harry usually had to sidealong with Zayn, which he enjoyed more than he should. Zayn was spoken for after all, but the feel of his muscled arm against Harry's side was wondrous. 

 

"Do you ever clean in here? You could even hire someone to do that for you… I almost tripped over a stack of spell books, mate," came Zayn's exasperated voice as he ambled into the kitchen area. His hair was a mess, loose strands and flyaways. There was a dusting of floo powder on his nose. Harry resisted the urge to mother Zayn by wiping it off with a quick charm. Zayn looked like he had just rolled out of bed, even his cheeks were still a little rosy and his eyes dewy. Zayn was wearing muggle garb, a big red, and wooly looking jumper and ripped up jeans. He yawned and scratched at his stomach under the sweater. Harry fumbled for words for a minute, caught up in his staring, but he remembered himself. 

 

"What are you talking about? The books make it cozy," Harry laughed. The truth was he was rather fond of his ever-growing collection of books. The smell, leather bound and the sharp tang of ink. The subjects of which he had yet to ascertain. He often picked books on their color and not necessary the contents. Harry did judge books by their cover, but he did enjoy reading them when he had a spare moment. And honestly, Harry's cleaning and sorting spells were kind of rubbish. It was usually Liam or Zayn who ended up cleaning everything once they got frustrated with him. Zayn shook his head and grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

 

"Hello. Band meeting boys? Let’s get started while it’s still daylight why don’t we?" Louis said, "I've got some things to do after this."

 

"Searching for the most potent magical high doesn't count as 'things to do'," Liam scoffed. Louis slapped him, well tried but couldn't reach. Instead he settled on giving Liam a nice stinging hex, right on the arse, judging by the way Liam whimpered and leaped out of his chair. He didn't, however, retaliate further. Louis's penchant for irritating magic had only seemed to grow since his days as Head Boy and Liam knew better than to exacerbate him. It was a tenuous balance to maintain in the early days, but no longer was it an issue.

 

"So what do we even have to do today?" asked Zayn. "I'm getting a bite with Rhys after..." Louis's eyebrows crept a few centimeters up on his forehead but he said nothing. Harry had an uneasy feeling brewing in his gut but he ignored it.

 

"Anyone want a cuppa before we start? Simon has sent me some additional tour dates and locations that we need to review and approve," Harry explained. His suffering old owl Barnabus had heaved a massive package full of Simon's neatly written script. Harry definitely wouldn't have gotten through the stack of papers had he not cast a dictation charm. There were a few groans and moans but the work had to get done. Band meetings were one tradition that had never disappeared, and Harry was glad for it. It was a time exclusively for the five boys to talk about stuff, work on music and be with each other, be themselves. Harry relished these times for their nostalgic purposes and also for how they were very strangely productive.

 

...

 

_In his fifth year Harry had accidentally walked in on Zayn and his girlfriend of the time, Veronica Warblefoor, having sex in the Prefects bathroom. Harry, of course, had gotten the password from Louis. It never changed year to year apparently. Maybe Zayn and Veronica weren't having sex, but they were about to. Zayn had nothing on but his blue and grey Ravenclaw tie and Veronica was starkers, kneeling with Zayn's cock in her perfectly manicured hand. It was the first time Harry had seen an erect penis other than his own. He still remembered it clearly. Zayn's cock was hard, flushed dark red and jutted out from a dark swatch of slightly curled hair. He was cut, which confused Harry slightly. There was this one vein that ran along the underside that Harry could recall in spectacular detail, and not because he might have procured a pensieve to do so. Harry had stuttered embarrassed, nearly tripped and fell on the wet tile before he managed to flee back to his own room so he could wank._

_Zayn and Harry were band mates after all, so of course the whole band had a massive laugh about it afterwards. Neither Harry nor Zayn had been laughing at the time. But Harry, he still could feel his cock thicken at the memory. Not to mention the time Zayn and Harry had sex with these two muggle birds in the same room one muggy night in Brighton. But that was in the early days. Before the band got actual attention and played on the Wizard Wireless Network every twenty minutes. Before Zayn met Rhys and Harry was caught allegedly mucking about with a new female celebrity biannually. It was a different time. Nevertheless, that never stopped Harry from maintaining his primary school like crush on Zayn. Zayn was the first wizard he had ever met. Harry was pretty sure Zayn didn't even remember._

_.._

 

Harry was slightly perplexed when Zayn stuck around at the end of their little band meeting. Niall, Louis and Liam had apparated shortly after the business was all finished. After all didn't he say that he had a lunch date with the beau? Zayn was muttering to himself while enchanting a sponge to clean all of Harry's dishes. "You don't have to do that," Harry said, pouting a bit. He withdrew his wand from his sleeve holster. Harry learned very early on that if he held it anywhere else he'd somehow manage to snap it in half. Quickly he cast a quick _scourgify_ in the direction of the plates.

 

"You definitely just made it much worse, Hazza," Zayn muttered under his breath as one of the teacups took a dip and spilled soapy water onto Zayn's head. "I had a system going and everything." Zayn was still smiling though; Harry could hear it in the lilt of his voice. If he could bathe in someone's voice, if somehow that were even possible Harry would choose Zayn's voice. It was so soft sometimes, but it hid great power. 

 

Harry busied himself for a little while, jotting down their decisions to return to Simon. Then, he watered his plants. One of which had a penchant for crying at night when Harry had first bought it. It was much calmer now, it even cooed at Harry as he stroked gently at its leaves and added some water and nutrients to the soil in which it sat. Then he just ended up sitting and watching Zayn tidy up while petting his tiny black cat Penelope. Penelope never really grew larger than kitten size, and she had a tendency to get lost and not return for several days.  When she did she brought many dead animals as gifts, which at one point had disturbed Harry. But he mostly just gave the animals to Louis who fed it to his pet anaconda. 

 

"Saw that _Prophet_ article this morning," said Zayn, walking over to scratch Penelope behind her ears. She purred and arched into Zayn's touch. Zayn cracked an easy smile and seemed more invested in the cat than in Harry's article. 

 

"Yeah, you and half of London by now," Harry grunted. Zayn slumped onto the couch next to Harry, which sent Penelope flying out of Harry's arms to settle on Zayn's lap. She did always love Zayn a lot. Most animals tended to gravitate towards him. And Harry himself of course.

 

"S'not that bad," Zayn conceded, slapping a hand lightly onto Harry's shoulder. "Not going to be as bad as my next story." 

 

"What do you mean, Zayn?" Harry raised a brow. For the most part Zayn kept out of _The Prophet_. Except for the whole infidelity scandal that had happened two years ago. But they never spoke of that. Zayn's expression darkened slightly. He continued scratching lightly at Penelope's belly and refused to look Harry in the eye. Penelope let out a long meow and Harry was strangely jealous of his cat for a moment.

 

"You're not leaving The Head Boys are you?" Harry spluttered. It was the first thing he could think of. He panicked for a slight moment, heart twisting like a grindylow weaving through seaweed. Harry couldn't possibly imagine the band without Zayn. The mere thought of it made his head hurt and his eyes water a tad. "Because then we'd only be half Head Boy and you know. And we wouldn't survive without you on bass, because I'm terrible at it. Also, I need, we need you."

 

“Zayn?” Harry asked after Zayn didn’t respond.

 

Zayn quirked his face into a confused smile. Normally it was reserved just for Harry. His eyebrows were knitted together and his mouth turned half up. Harry wasn't sure if it was more amusement or gentle confusion. "No, Haz. Don't be so daft. You've been reading too many trash magazines. It's just that..." Zayn trailed off and focused on petting Penelope. "Rhys and I, we," Zayn started and stopped again. His mouth opened and closed. Harry felt hungry as he stared at Zayn's tongue licking at his chapped bottom lip. 

 

Zayn's eyes were hooded and he squeezed them shut, a crease appearing on his forehead. Harry couldn't keep his eyes off Zayn.  He swallowed a lump that had been lodged in his throat. Zayn let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his tussled hair. "It's all right you can tell me," Harry said as calmly as possible. He didn't really want to know, did he? He felt like he was always on the receiving end of Zayn and his relationship troubles. 

 

Harry found out years after the fact that the bird, Veronica, the one he had walked in on with Zayn, was actually not Zayn's current girlfriend per se. In fact, Harry learned very quickly once he had joined The Head Boys that Zayn had had more than a few infidelity issues. Harry initially was very upset by it. He'd always believed in soul mates and the whole idea of finding your magical equal. Magical compatibility was so tricky. Harry found that even with partners to whom he was wildly physically attracted, incompatible magic was what inhibited him. It was like a prickling sensation under the skin, hot and cold. Uncomfortable when making physical contact and even when in close proximity. Regardless, once he got to know Zayn, he understood that some people could fall in love with a new person everyday even if only for the briefest, most transient moment. And that in itself made Harry fall a little bit in love with Zayn. 

 

Rhys and Zayn had been so on and off in recent years, ever since the band had started to gain fame. So, Harry wasn't really surprised each new time Zayn would come and unburden himself on Harry. Harry was actually pretty comfortable being the friend that Zayn trusted enough with all this information. Zayn gave off such an aloof air all the time, not just to reporters and their millions of wizard fans. As for Rhys, Harry actually quite liked him. Sure, inside he was deeply envious, but he had been secretly envious of all of Zayn's paramours throughout the years. Rhys worked for the Ministry, something to do with Muggle relations. Rhys had been in Hufflepuff along with Harry, but he and Zayn didn't start seeing each other until they met again at a press function a few years after Hogwarts. Rhys was pretty ace when Harry thought about it. 

 

"I proposed to him," Zayn finally said, "Gave him my grandmum's old ring. You know the one, I showed you once."  Harry remembered. It was this beautifully ornate golden ring, with a large green jewel in the center. The ring was intricately carved and supposedly soldered using the breath of one of the most legendary dragons to ever live. Zayn had animatedly told the story to Harry once in the early years. There had always been some great allure about the ring. Made Harry want to touch it himself, wear it even. He also believed that the ring would go wonderfully with his eyes. They were nearly the same shade of green, but he never said that to Zayn. Harry's heart seized in his chest at the thought of someone that was not him wearing the ring. He was convinced for a moment that someone had cast a full body bind charm on him. Because he could not move his limbs nor could he make any sound.

 

"So," Harry croaked, "When's the wedding, then? Are The Head Boys the headliners?" He forced a smile, but his face felt like it might crack under the weight of it. Harry was already envisioning ways for him to not attend the event. He could already think of a few. Magically induced coma. He could eat some puking pastilles before. 

 

"No," Zayn laughed bitterly. He sounded upset. Penelope seemed to sense something off and started to rub her backside against Zayn's abdomen. Zayn curved over her, bending to place a soft kiss on the top of her skull. Harry felt another irrational flash of jealousy.

 

"What do you mean? I thought you said we could sing a little song, do a little dance..." Harry didn’t even know why he bothered. The reference was clearly lost on Zayn, who just stared at him blankly. Harry shrugged and took a sip of his lukewarm tea.

 

"Rhys said no.”

..

 

A month later...

 

"Okay lads! Portkey to Egypt leaves at 8 am sharp tomorrow." Liam was nearly bouncing out of his skin. Harry thought he hadn’t seen Liam this stoked since Sophia Smith, a Slytherin, had finally given in to Liam’s advances. Liam had asked her out every year since his second year at Hogwarts apparently. Though she had always declined except for once in fifth year when they went out for a week before she dumped him. But when Liam hit in the big times, Sophia came crawling back. Not that Harry would describe it like that, but Louis was apt to do so. Louis seemed a bit more wary of her.

 

It was The Head Boys first time touring select parts of Northern Africa. Egypt was the first stop. Then they’d be heading over to Morocco. Harry was a little nervous, as he was before any tour and any new venue. For this tour, they had been mercilessly working on a new entrance technique. They even contracted an Auror to help them refine their magic for said more complicated entrance. Of course, Harry was the absolute worst at it. His magic was finicky, to say the least. Harry for some reason kept appearing on stage in a cloud of green smoke, rather than the desired golden yellow. Zayn of course was flawless, in spite of the bags beneath his eyes and the weight he had loss since the breakup. Niall even managed to perfect his entrance. 

 

In addition to his fear of botching the entrance, Harry was irrationally afraid that the heat in Cairo would mess up his hair too much. He already got shit on the daily by various tabloids and on the World Wide Wizarding Web, a prototype spell that allowed young witches and wizards to connect. His hair was much longer now that it had ever been before and he hated using anti-frizz charms. He was convinced they made his hair loose buoyancy or something as an unintended side effect.

 

"Whatcha thinking about Haz?" Niall slung an easy arm around Harry's shoulders. 

 

"You know," Harry began. "Life, my hair. Anti-friz charms." Niall's face split into a broad smile and they both started cracking up. It was so easy with Niall. 

 

"Zayn is giving me the dirtiest looks right now, what is up his shorts?" Niall whispered. Niall was right. Zayn's glaring and general brooding had increased tenfold in the last month. When he wasn't in rehearsals he'd lay in his bed all day. The breakup or whatever was going on with Zayn and Rhys were tough. Harry understood that. Especially if Zayn had thought he and Rhys were going to get married and all. Apparently, Liam had found a stash of empty vials of dreamless sleep in Zayn's flat. Which Harry knew to be extremely addictive.

 

But whenever Harry tried to help, Zayn had just shut him down. So maybe Harry hadn't handled the whole rejected proposal too well. What was he supposed to say? You should pursue the man who denied you? He hadn’t said anything at all. Just kind of stared with his mouth open. Zayn had flooed out quietly a few minutes after. So Harry did what made the most sense to him, he backed off and let Zayn have some space to recuperate before tour started up.

 

"Fuck if I know," Harry whined. He didn't know. "He better not puke on me during the portkey trip tomorrow. I am not in the mood to deal with a moody and sick Malik."

 

Niall hummed in agreement. "Eh, once we start playing again that should set him right. At least his foul mood doesn't affect his playing right?" 

 

This was true all the time. Zayn was by far the most consistent performer out of the band. Always performed when it came to it. He was bloody talented on the bass and Harry was pretty surprised that he wasn’t the lead singer of the band himself. Certainly had the pipes on him to be so. It had always been that way for as long as Harry could recall. It used to make Harry feel rather insecure that he just bopped around on stage and sang. The critics acknowledged this readily as well.

 

"Oi, Horan and Styles, enough chatting. We're running through the entrance once more. Harry you better hit your marks this time," shouted one of the crewmembers. Harry grumbled and wandered over to the mock stage. He lived for the roar of the crowd and the waving wands with their dim _lumos_ cast. He fed off the energy; it was the best type of magic Harry had ever felt. Somehow rehearsal didn’t feel the same. It was off. The energy and excitement wasn’t there and typically rehearsal dissolved into someone running around and causing havoc.

 

Harry grumbled and took his mark. His wand was strapped to his arm, the tip pressed against his wrist if he bent his hand too quickly. Zayn was mumbling and bobbing his head slightly, his bass was slung across his chest.

 

"On five lads," Louis said before counting down. Harry concentrated as hard as he could. He mouthed the incantation and forced his energy from his magical core into the tips of his fingers and through his wand. There was a rush and he could feel himself lifting from the ground. It was like his body was floating and all the little bits of his body were tingling and separating and reorganizing. 

 

"Harry?" Liam called. Harry blinked and looked around. The other boys were standing around him, floating as it were, in these spectral golden looking clouds. Half of their bodies were obscured by the cloud. Louis's drum set was suspended next to him in it's own cloud. Fucking ridiculous. And Harry's again was off color, more brown this time. 

 

"Don't look at me that way!" Harry whined. "I'm trying! You know charms were my worst subject." There were peals of laughter coming from Niall's direction. 

 

"It looks like you suspended your own shit..." Louis trailed off, a grin in his voice. Liam frowned and raised his wand. He shot a beam of bright light at Harry's cloud. Harry felt like he was about to be knocked out and tumble to the mock stage. How comical would that have been, he would not hear the end of it for days if that were to happen. 

 

"Umm, it's an alright solution for now?" Liam offered. Harry pursed his lips but agreed.

 

"Don't think too much about it, Harry. You'll get it. I know you will," Zayn said softly. He smiled sheepishly at Harry. If Harry could have kissed him right then, he would have. 

 

"Ahem," Louis said, "Enough with the chatter." He slammed his drum sticks down on the cymbals causing a shower of golden light dust to scatter through the air. It was pretty sick. Then Niall started playing the beginning chords of Hex My Girl. Harry grinned as Zayn's sultry voice carried through the empty mock venue. The five of them lowered to the stage slowly and were all feet on ground by the time the lines of first chorus were sung. 

 

..

 

The first time the lads took a portkey together, they were traveling to a small town in Ireland near Niall's home. Zayn had never been on a portkey and had gripped Harry's hand so hard Harry had to go to the infirmary upon arrival to get his blood recirculating properly. Not to mention, no amount of scourgifying would get the smell of Zayn's throw up out of Harry's travel robes. It had been Harry's first time using a portkey as well. When he was with his family, Gemma and his mum and Robin, they flew on aeroplanes like regular muggles. Harry often wondered if his wonky magic was a result of him being muggle born or if it was because he was just generally clumsy and awkward. 

 

Zayn had been so embarrassed about the whole affair that he couldn't even face Harry until the first show of that portion of the tour. During which, of course, he saved Harry from falling off the stage and breaking himself. They had a strange give and take relationship, saved and savior.

 

The morning of the portkey, Harry felt massively forlorn when Zayn didn't take his hand, opting to hang around by Louis. The air felt thicker already once the portkey began working. Harry could see bits of sand and flashes of pyramids before they were all happily floating down to the port in Cairo. The sun was beating down and there was a bustle of fans already present, waiting to spring. They cast various signs into the air proclaiming their love for The Head Boys. Harry quickly shifted into Harry Styles, rock star, and began smiling, waving and throwing out peace signs. 

 

The band and crew set up camp right outside the stadium, which was nestled between the Sphinx and a nearby pyramid. Hidden from the untrained and unmagical eye, Harry was cooling off in the tent, after the heat of the sweltering desert had gotten to be a little too much for him. No amount of cooling charms were helping him at this point, and pretty soon Harry's hair was going to reach new heights. Even after Lou had given him special leave in product, it was still misbehaving. He fanned himself with a random bit of palm leaf he had found near the outside perimeter of the camp.

 

The show that night went off without much difficulty. It was bloody hot as balls the whole time, but Harry managed his entrance with a passable amount of yellow coloring in his smoke. Enough for Louis not to mention it during their first break. To Harry's amazement he only fell once during the show, and his fall was broken by a cushioning charm that Zayn had cast at the last second. Harry was pretty sure the fall in the first place was due to him jumping about on stage in a puddle of his own sweat. His boots did not have the most traction. Luckily, no one was seriously hurt; Harry’s pride maybe a bit. And the fans, as always, were amazing.

 

It surprised Harry every time they performed that the hype, the rush of energy was always the same. Fizzling and tingling beneath his skin. Sometimes it made Harry feel like he was going to burst. However, that night Harry opted to stay in. He lay in his bunk in the tent and marveled at how far the band had come. And how much he had changed in the past year even. Besides, he didn't really want to go out dancing in some magical club. It was tempting and perhaps he could have maintained more anonymity outside of Europe. But he didn't feel like fucking around anymore. He was nearly twenty two years old. But he felt like a proper old warlock at this point. Besides, he figured it was best to lay low for a while, not let _The Prophet_ get too much glee out of exposing his sexcapades to the English wizarding community. Maybe he'd get a new tattoo. He heard some pretty good things about magical tattoos, especially from a certain shop near the venue. 

 

"Hey," a familiar voice called. It was tentative and quiet. Zayn wandered into the room wearing only his muggle joggers, which he had definitely knicked from Harry. They were slightly too long and sagged perilously low on Zayn's narrow hips. Harry forced himself to look away. Zayn's assortment of magical tattoos (and he even had some muggle ones!) never ceased to amaze him. The first time he had seen Zayn's cock also happened to be the same time he was graced with a view of the spiraling Arabic script that straddled Zayn's left collarbone and fluttered to the beating of his heart. Or the tiger sleeping peacefully on Zayn's arm. Or the wings on his clavicle and pectorals that spread open and closed with power and grace that didn't seem possible for two dimensional drawings.

 

"Hi," Harry said, staring at Zayn's back muscles as his bandmate stretched, bending over. Harry wanted to slot his fingers between the notches in Zayn's spine and worship the fantail over the base of his neck. He wanted to kiss every inch of skin, cover each rib with open mouthed kisses. He forced his eyes shut.

 

"Can we talk?"

 

"Aren't we already?" Harry scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel the beginnings of a headache blooming behind his eyes.

 

“I want to, um,” Zayn was fiddling with a small pipe in his hands. “Talk. About things. Do you want to…smoke?”

 

“Eh, not really?” Harry said. “I mean, I’ll stand outside with you, if you want.”

 

Harry warily followed Zayn out of the tent. He watched as Zayn produced green buds from out of his jogger pockets. With a flick of his wand they were settled inside the pipe. He lit the pipe and wrapped his lips around the mouthpiece. Harry’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Zayn’s cheeks hollow around the pipe. He blew smoke out in a series of ring patterns. They were simple at first, but soon they became more complex and circled each other.

 

“So,” Harry said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. They were on the border of the camp. The sky was a dark, inky blue. Harry could make out the black outlines of pyramids in the distance. It was not a view that he could have ever predicted he would have seen in his life. The slight orange glow of Zayn’s pipe washed lightly over the sharp slant of Zayn’s nose. His eyelashes looked even longer in the low lighting, almost blending into the dark of the sky.

 

“Hmm?” The pipe was still between Zayn’s lips.

 

“You said you wanted to talk,” Harry laughed. “So, hello. I’m here.”

 

“Oh, right.” Zayn sniffed. “I mean, it just feels like we haven’t chatted in a while. It’s been really busy with the tour and all.”

 

“Do you have anything in particular that you want to talk about?” Harry sighed. The interaction was as awkward as Harry had expected.

 

“Erm,” Zayn grumbled and deferred to taking another deep inhale from his pipe. He grunted something but Harry couldn’t make it out.

 

“Use your words,” Harry said.

 

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” Zayn asked finally. He scratched at the back of his head. Zayn took another deep inhale from the pipe and blew it out in concentric rings.

 

“What do you mean?” Harry asked tentatively. He ran a hand through his hair. The air felt tense suddenly, as if Zayn’s question would determine the rest of their relationship.

 

“I just, the whole situation with Rhys and stuff, I just…” Zayn trailed off. This seemed more than the normal amount of angst and Harry wondered what was really wrong. But maybe he wasn't as good at reading Zayn as he had thought. 

 

Harry shivered. It was much colder that night than Harry would have expected. After all, they were in the desert. “Want to head back in?” Zayn had always been empathetic towards other people. He was sensitive that way, extremely perceptive and caring. They ambled back towards Harry’s tent and Harry settled on his cot.

 

"Budge up," Zayn whispered. Harry could sense his presence, looming over him. Harry scooted over an imperceptible amount. But that seemed to be enough for Zayn, who clamored into the bunk behind Harry to spoon him. Harry hated himself so much.

 

Harry might have even made it up, but Harry remembered once sharing a sloppy wet kiss with Zayn. It must have been because two eager groupies had asked them to do it. But Harry had never felt a rush of power as he had then. It was like his whole body turned into a live wire, a conductor of magical energy. It fled from the tip of every single hair on his head to the tips of Harry's toenails. Harry almost broke all the glass objects in the room he was so giddy. Just from the sheer force of his magic, their combined magic. It had been an explosive bloom of pinks and yellows and indigos bellowing forth from Harry. Zayn hadn't said anything about the kiss. He just widened his eyes before wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand. And that was that.

Lying in the tiny cot with Zayn, Harry could feel Zayn's cool breathing on his neck, the calm buzz on the sensitive skin. It was intoxicating and terrifying all at once. Harry was beginning to feel slightly giddy with energy, with how close their bodies were in the small bunk. It had been so long. He tried not to shiver. The only other way Harry even felt remotely like this was when he was on stage performing. And even that couldn't compare to the swell in his chest, the pressure that was alleviated. 

 

His mum used to tell him that when he met _the one_ that he'd know. Harry thought she was full of shit because she had met so many "ones" before she finally settled with Robin. When he first met Zayn, he thought it had been a fluke. A fleeting crush. Zayn had sorted him out at King's Cross, helped him find the platform and even sat with him on the train. Harry remembered fondly sharing a chocolate frog with the Ravenclaw that fateful first meeting. The card was one of The Weird Sisters, who at the time Harry had no clue about. Zayn had always been a huge The Weird Sisters fan, though he was hesitant to admit it. There was a whole bunch of kids that liked to listen to muggle music in secret; Zayn was one of them and consequently often shunned W-pop.

 

"I'm sorry," Zayn blurted out. Harry felt the reverberations coming from his ribcage where it connected to his back. Unintentionally, he leaned back into it.

 

"Yeah."

 

"I don't know," Zayn was clearly flustered. "I guess. I'm sort of thick that way. I’ve been a tit lately, haven’t I? It’s weird. Rhys and I, we’re in a different place than we’d ever been. I think its, well I don’t really know what’s going to happen. I guess I just assumed I'd have my act together at this point."

 

Harry laughed a short, choked sound. "Just because we can use magic, doesn't mean we have perfectly sorted ourselves out. You're only twenty two. So, you don't have to know." Which was a total lie, because Harry a year younger was pretty much resigned to having an unhappy love life. Maybe he was only slightly convinced of that because of that one time in Divination, when his tea leaves read that he'd have one love of his life and that was it. 

 

“Yeah, I guess you’re smart sometimes,” Zayn chuckled. Harry flushed and squirmed to get a little more comfortable. Zayn was stroking his sides, a feathery touch. It tickled slightly.

 

“So, like don’t worry about it too much? I mean, maybe, who knows what could happen?” Harry said more to himself than Zayn. “You’ve got your whole life to settle down and whatever.” Zayn murmured something unintelligible. Harry had always thought Zayn wasn’t the best cuddler because he had the tendency to fall asleep immediately.

 

"You're right. Love you, Haz," Zayn murmured pressing a light kiss to Harry's shoulder. Harry sighed and didn't sleep a wink that night. 

 

..

 

"Harry Styles gets a mermaid tattoo on his arm!? Is he entertaining ideas of mermaid love? Is the lovable boy band member trying to make a statement with this semi nude mermaid? We haven't heard an official bite from the Mermaid community yet, but these are the questions we desperately want answers to. Also, is Zahys officially over? Rumor has it the famed pair has finally split. The Head Boys are on a short break before they begin their North American Tour. Also, make sure to tune into the Wizarding Wireless Network this Saturday night for a live performance of The Head Boys's latest single "Where Do Broken Hearts Go" penned by our very own mermaid loving Harry Styles."

 

..

 

The lads were back in England for a break, the rest of the North African tour having wrapped up very nicely.  They were at Louis’s mansion. The Tomlinsons made a considerable fortune after the war, doing ‘respectable things’ according to Louis. Harry had never had the gall to ask, nor did he really want to know. The mansion was sprawling, nestled on the edge of a forest and a lake. There was the main house in addition to several smaller cabins that dotted the wood. The best part of the entire property was, of course, the makeshift Quidditch pitch. Louis had his parents build it when he was much younger and more of a brat, though Harry questioned if that was even possible.

 

"So, explain to me again how having Liam and you on the same team versus Niall and I is any fair..." Harry teetered unevenly on his broomstick.  It had been a while and Harry's flying skills had always been questionable. They were playing a friendly game of band Quidditch. Two versus two with one of them keeping score and being a referee of sorts. Of course Zayn was ground bound and currently more invested in reading his book than score keeping. 

 

"It's fair," Louis cackled, doing a barrel roll and almost knocking Harry off his broom. Harry's knuckles were going to be permanently white with how tightly he was gripping the broom. "Totally fair." Louis was now hanging upside down from his broom, his hair looking rather like a troll doll. Louis was actually an ace Quidditch player and was even offered a place on the Chuddley Cannons by their owner, a certain Ron Granger-Weasley. Of course, he had to turn the offer down because of the band. Regardless, he was a mean beater. Sent tons of kids to the infirmary in his time at Hogwarts. And Liam had been a keeper for four years on Gryffindor's team.

 

"Watch it, Haz," Liam laughed, zooming past Harry on his broom to join Louis in this upside down nonsense. Niall gripped his broom firmly in his hands and made a small attempt to block a quaffle but Liam tossed it easily through the make shift goal post. 

 

"That'll be 300 to 10," Zayn announced using a _sonorous_ to project his voice to the height of the playing field. Harry sighed and slapped his flying goggles down onto his face, which stung a bit. "Team LiLo making another strong showing out here today. Narry not so much." Harry could hear Niall hollering at Louis and whinging about how he was playing dirty. Harry shook his head. This happened nearly every time they played Quidditch.

 

Harry soared down to the grass and pulled up just short of Zayn, who raised his eyebrows at Harry's near tumble off his broom. It had been a potentially dangerous stunt in retrospect. Harry dismounted and threw his goggles onto the ground despite Niall's cries of disappointment. He could vaguely make out Louis’s cackle. They would have to wait, and plus, Harry was a sore loser. He didn’t want to play sports when he was clearly shit at them.

 

"What are you doing?" Zayn asked, eying him warily.  Harry began stripping out of his flying leathers and plopped down in just his pants next to Zayn. The sun was pretty hot and Harry might get an even tan finally. Zayn refocused on what was left of the game and stared up at the sky. “Earth to Harry? You’ve got another quarter to go. I even think you and Niallar can make a come back.”

 

“Don’t be such a tosser.”

 

“You love me just the way I am, Haz.” Harry cringed internally. Zayn really knew how to stick it right to him. He flopped over on to his belly. His back could use some sun.

 

"I'm embracing my defeat. Liam can have all my solos in Where Do Broken Hearts Go if he wants 'em that badly," Harry shrugged. 

 

"Haz it's your song though. You shouldn't be such a pushover ya know." Zayn shrugged and pushed some hair that had fallen in Harry's face behind his ear. Harry felt himself flush. He was probably as pink as one of those stupid little Pygmy puffs they sold at that Weasley Joke Shop of which Louis was ever so fond. "You had a hair, it was blowing around you know, I." 

 

"S'cool," Harry played it cool. Or tried too. His traitorous heart had sped up until he could feel his pulse in the tips of fingers and his neck. He placed his hands around his face and sucked in a deep breath. He was a twenty one year old man. Not some silly little boy with a crush. But some days he could hardly tell the difference. 

 

"You alright, Haz?" Zayn asked, nose now buried in another book he had produced out of thin air. Harry nodded furiously, and slapped his face back into his arms.

 

"So, uh, I heard you’re into mermaids now." The corners of Zayn's mouth turned up imperceptibly. 

 

"Shut up," Harry whined, "I happen to like this one a lot." He wielded his left forearm in front of Zayn's face, knocking the book out of his hands. The mermaid, who had yet to be named, swished her tail with a flick, the black ink scrolling over the slightly reddened skin of Harry's arm. Then she winked and blew a kiss at Zayn. Harry almost melted into the ground. Magical tattoos, generally, were extensions of the wearer, unless cursed or something. Emotional states were often reflected in them.

 

"Cheeky one, eh?" There was a glimmer of amusement in Zayn's honey eyes. Harry wanted to die. “She’s fit, I suppose. Is that her puss—Harry why would you do that? That’s not a very modest tattoo is it now?”

 

“You know, I,” Harry stuttered. The tattoo artist was the son of Luna Lovegood and Rolf Scamander, Lorcan, or was it Lysander? Harry could never remember. They were twins after all, good looking, charming twins. But only one of them did tattoos, the other was a writer/researcher like his father Rolf. Harry usually gave his tattoo artists the liberty to express themselves. This one he rather liked, right down to the rather detailed pubic area of the mermaid.

 

“Mermaids don’t even really look like that, that’s some muggle looking thing…” Zayn trailed off.

 

Harry opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted when Louis came out of nowhere and pounced on him, causing him whinge and scream. "Your arse just got grassed!" Niall hooted from somewhere behind Louis. Louis triumphantly sat on Harry's back, throwing his head back to let out a victory cry. Somewhere he could hear Liam mumbling something about not actually breaking Harry. 

 

"I hate you so much." 

 

"No you don't." 

 

"I'm going to tell El about your little collection of old wizard porn," Harry huffed. 

 

"Haha very funny. That's an empty threat; I'll have you know Harold. Good old El likes to watch that vintage stuff with me. She rather likes their fancy old muffs and schlongs. Very antiquated, no? Now why don't you and Zayn-y boy come join us? We're going to a quick warm up for the WWN show later." 

 

..

 

_When Harry had received his letter from Hogwarts, Gemma had handled it best out of the entire family. She was highly empathetic, and Harry supposed the whole being a wizard thing explained a lot about his strangeness. While Harry was off at school, Gemma would read loads and loads of books about the Wizarding world and magic. She sometimes even proved to be more knowledgeable than Harry himself. Anyways, when Harry was twelve, Gemma was convinced that he'd fall in love hard and fast. She based this off a multitude of things. The fact that he had an eleven inch willow wand with a core made of unicorn hair was one of the reasons. According to wand theory (Harry hadn't a clue how Gemma knew so much), some combinations of materials were telling of personal characteristics. It all sounded like a bunch of horoscope crap._

_Of course, Harry was a massive fulfiller of prophecies, and fell hard for the first magical person he even met. Sort of. So, maybe when he joined The Head Boys it was partially born from his desire to get more sociable and what not, but also because he wanted to know Zayn better. This, in retrospect, seemed extremely stalkerish. His joining the band was coincidental, however, because he didn't know for sure that Zayn was even in it. Nevertheless, it seemed to make everything, his entire career seemed almost by chance. Seemed that it was largely based off of his crush for Zayn and not out of his own desire to make music. Of course, he loved that and being a part of the band.  So maybe he didn't realize that his actions were motivated out of a desire to be around Zayn until he was much older. The whole crush was just one of those things that Harry still hadn't managed to grow out of._

 

..

 

"Harry!" Zayn called. He had been skulking around Harry's flat ever since he had been kicked out of one of Liam and Louis' infamous song writing sessions. The pair of them were vehemently particular about the entire process. They holed themselves up in a secret location and stayed there for days at a time. The process was “sacred”. Which was a laugh, considering they dedicated one of their songs to the latest and greatest and the newest prank sweet, the diarrhea caramels. Obviously the words were changed in the end, but the sentiment was still there. And every time they sang the song, which will not be named, Harry couldn't help but make faces when he wasn't singing his parts.

 

"Hmm?" Harry was sifting through a huge stack of mail that Barnabus had lugged into the room. All the mail he had missed from being on the North African part of the tour. It really did pile up. The worst was that since Barnabus was older, often times he accidentally brought back fan mail that should have been sorted out. Harry burned a few love howlers with a quick _ignatio_ incantation. They were possibly nastier than a regular howler. 

 

"You've got, your, ehh, this thingy won't shut up." Zayn was holding Harry's cell phone up, gingerly between his thumb and forefinger. Harry almost burst out laughing. "I tried to cast a _silencio_ and it didn't really do anything, it just kept buzzing in my hand..."

 

Harry sometimes forgot how awkward Zayn was around Muggle technology. He had always been fascinated by Harry's television in particular, which he called the magic picture box. Harry still remembered the first time Zayn had seen one. Back when they were signing their first record deal, they spent a week up at Harry's home in secluded muggle Holmes Chapel. Harry didn't remember why he thought it would be a good idea, him being the only muggleborn in the band. Most of the trip was spent explaining various devices. Coffee makers and the grill being two of the most talked about items. 

 

Zayn had spent nearly twenty four hours straight playing Mario Cart against Louis. It probably took the first ten to figure out how to use the controller properly, then another two for Louis to begin hexing Liam's controller so that he couldn't ever win. The worst was when someone called the house because it sent the four boys into a tizzy. Liam would panic and cast _silencios_ at random household objects and Louis accidentally managed to ruin the VCR. Niall was a little better and would hold the phone up and try to speak at it, albeit holding it a half a meter from his head was not terribly effective. 

 

"Hey, it's Harry," Harry picked up the phone from Zayn's tentative hand.

 

"Jeez, I called three times. What's the matter?"

 

"Sorry, Gemma. Zayn doesn't know how to work the new iPhone. I think he preferred the flip phone...like he could just open it and then talk."

 

"Ahh. Tell him that I say hello."

 

"Will do. So what's up?" 

 

"What? I can't call my favorite brother for no reason?"

 

"I'm your only brother. And yeah, you normally don't call unless you're asking for something. But I appreciate the call though." 

 

"Oh Haz, you're so charming. I wonder where you get it from. Shit! I just," Gemma cut off.

 

"Gemma, you alright then?"

 

"Sorry, just bumped into the table. Anyways, was wondering if I might join you guys on part of the American tour? I've got some friends I want to visit. And you know hanging out with you magical lot isn't too shabby either."

 

"Of course. I rather like having you round." 

 

"What's up Zayn?" Harry turned to him. He was fiddling with the end of his pipe. "Did you have something you wanted to talk about."

 

Zayn gave him a weak smile. Something felt very wrong. Harry wondered what it was. "No, I'm good. Just wanted to spend time with you. I like to spend time with you always. Can't a guy just hang out with one of his best friends?" 

 

..

 

Summer in America had been a thing the past few years now. Sometimes, the whole year seemed to gear up towards the string of concerts in sweaty, dirty, and magically strange America. Harry thought it rather weird that he had only ever gotten to know the magical parts of the States; he'd never really had the time to explore Muggle New York City or LA at all. Obviously, he had heard loads about it when he was a kid growing up. Apparently, the lines between magical and muggle were far more blurred in the States, though Harry could hardly tell since the band moved around so quickly. A lot of Hollywood A-lister types were actually witches and warlocks but loved the muggle attention. Taylor Swift, for example, had both a muggle tour and a wizard one. Harry was convinced she had been using a time turner, or else there'd be no way she could do so much. Their legality was dubious in the States but people had their ways.

 

One thing Harry always liked to prepare for, mentally at least, was the insanity of American tours. Touring the States took much longer than any of their other locations, with more venues and longer trips between the venues. Last year, memorably, they would floo between hotels, which their team believed would mitigate fan interference. It did for the most part. This year, however, they were taking a high speed bus, made by the manufacturers of the Knight Bus, according to Louis at least. As far as they knew, it was three stories tall, had different living quarters for each of the lads, and even a small bath/shower. More importantly it was nearly undetectable even to the magical eye. Some sort of special, American Magical Bureau approved glamour that was often used for secret missions, high profile persons, and what not.

 

The boys had all portkeyed to the US on their own schedules. Harry had come a few days early. Seen some friends and got a new magical tattoo from a famous Leprechaun shop in West Magical Hollywood. Loads of famous witches and wizards frequented that shop. Louis was supposedly vacationing in Hawaii for some time. Liam had been sequestered off on some tropical island with Sophia. Niall was most definitely in attendance at all the Quidditch matches he could get to. And who knows that Zayn had been up to.

 

They met up in LA at this posh restaurant where they ate lunch and were to be picked up by the bus. The bus was fucking gigantic. It loomed over the team in its three floored height. It was jet black and the windows seemed to be tinted darker than the paint job itself. It shimmered in the night, almost taking on the liquid ink of the night sky. On the side of the bus was written, “Night Changes” in white scrawling script. Harry snorted at that.

 

"Looks good, eh?" Liam spelled his bags into the bus's open door. "I think I'm going to go claim a bunk then boys." Harry surveyed the bus warily. The thing was so big and black and terrible almost. 

 

Liam hopped and began to do this weird little jig before standing still. Louis, a wicked gleam in his eye, held his hand to stop Liam, who to Harry's surprise, did. "Not so fast, Liam," Louis called in a singsong voice. He loaded all his bags onto Liam's unmoving figure. "Thanks pal. You're the best." Zayn laughed quietly, swallowing the sound like he often did. 

 

Harry shook his head. Louis and Liam had always had this spiteful little back and forth going on. Harry would have thought it would have gotten better with age, but alas the rivalry only increased. It wasn't like Louis didn't love all the lads, Liam included, Harry just worried one day the pranks and tricks might go too far, ending in someone getting hurt, that someone being Liam. Once Liam was released from whatever hex Louis had cast on him, he grumbled and mumbled under his breath to Niall for the first half of the short bus ride to the hotel. Meanwhile, Harry stared in amazement as half a town whipped by the bus in a half second or so. He was just happy he wasn't getting as bus sick, as Zayn was, who currently clutched at his stomach, his face turning paler and slightly greener with every second that passed.

 

Harry flipped a vial of a stomach settling remedy at Zayn. Harry happened to like making these homemade remedies and what not in his spare time. Well, he used to at least back when they had more than a month's rest in between all their concerts and promotional events and whatever. Surprisingly, potions had been one of his better subjects at Hogwarts. Harry attributed it to the fact that he had always liked cooking when he was growing up, so he could for sure follow a recipe. Zayn took the vial in hand and surveyed it warily. His golden eyes glimmered against the light violet of the vial's content. Zayn was complete shit at packing for tour. He always forgot essentials, several pairs of pants, toiletries, once he almost even forgot his wand. Of course, he wouldn’t remember to bring his lot of potions.

 

"Is it safe?" Zayn pouted, a comical juxtaposition of a childlike expression and his sharp, angled bone structure. He uncorked the vial and drank it before Harry could even respond. Harry's mouth went dry at the sight of Zayn's Adam's apple traveling as he swallowed the potion down. 

 

"It's completely vile," Zayn hacked. "Better work."

 

"You doubt my potion making skills?" Harry feigned offense.  Zayn happened to be pretty damn good at potions himself. And Harry not so much.

 

Zayn wrinkled his nose further. "You made that shit? You should seriously consider going to an apothecary. There are professionals who make stuff like that for a living mate. And like I make better crap than that babe. Also, next time I would add some newt’s tail if I were you. Makes it taste less foul."

 

"Mine are all natural!" Harry was now pouting. "I grow all my ingredients in my garden. You know that."

 

Zayn snorted. He happened to not be terribly fond of the all natural potions movement. They were magical anyways, so why did it matter what they put in their bodies? Harry was not of that school of course. He found great joy in creating natural potions. Though they often worked slower and tasted absolutely disgusting.

 

“Whatever, just hope it works,” Zayn said.

 

“If it doesn’t you can go barf on Louis, right?” Harry laughed. Zayn looked to Louis and then back at Harry. Zayn's mouth curved into a small smile. One of the ones that he seemed to reserved for quieter moments. "You should, eh, come cuddle me now, if you're feeling better," Harry said, feeling brave. Zayn blinked once and slowly stood up. 

 

"If you insist." Harry's bed dipped slightly with Zayn's added weight. Harry rolled onto his side to allow Zayn to lie down beside him. They lay facing each other, breathing the same air. Which was slightly stale and had that not so pleasant bus smell. The bus creaked and groaned around them, metal sliding against the bus floor. The clang of the strange chandeliers swinging and the whir of the engine. 

 

The bus went through a particularly steep curve and Harry's stomach lurched. Zayn grumbled and their noses bumped into each other almost comically. Harry laughed and ran a hand through his hair. 

 

"I hope you don't have to, you know, still have to be sick or anything, Zayn," he whispered. 

 

"Don't worry, I think your little potion may have actually worked," Zayn said. He closed his eyes. Harry was enamored by how thick the shadows his eyelashes cast and the gentle slope of Zayn's nose. 

 

"We're going to get to the hotel soon I bet," Harry whispered. Zayn's nose brushed against his own. Harry wondered briefly if Zayn pulled stuff like this on purpose. Because he could and Harry would let him do it a million times over.

 

"Meffhrh, just let me sleep a tad more. 'M so comfy." Harry thought the same.

 

…

 

“The Head Boys are over in America and all I want to know is who Harry’s new paramour is! This just in, a woman with purple and blue hair was seen leaving Harry’s flat just the other day. She looks pretty cute if you ask me. Sources says that she may be one of Harry’s old muggle friends, as she does not see capable of using magic. Sounds like true romance. If only Harry Styles would grant us an interview so we could confirm with the man himself? Can this mega W-popstar really find love in the muggle world? We’re betting with his charm (not the magical kind) he totally can! Also trouble in paradise? We've seen some incriminating pictures of Zayn Malik and a mystery woman. She's pretty that's for sure.”

 

..

 

_Zayn almost missed their very first show, one that wasn't in the Three Broomsticks or the Hogs Head. It was at a dingy bar right on the border of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley called the Hag's Mole. Most of the people that ended up turning up were either fans from Hogwarts or the regulars at the Hag's Mole. The room was dark and dank. Harry had been so nervous. And to make matters worse, their bassist was nowhere to be found ten minutes before their set was meant to start. Honestly, in that moment, Harry seriously began to doubt whether or not taking his seventh year off to pursue the band had been the right decision. His mum hadn't really cared. It wasn't like he'd ever get a regular profession in the muggle world. He didn't have a credible degree there any who._

_Five minutes and counting. Zayn was still missing in action. Louis pulled a face and since Harry was the lowest in the totem pole it was his responsibility to fetch Zayn. He apparated to Zayn's flat. And there Zayn was asleep on his sofa clutching the handle of his bass's case against his chest. Harry had poked him once, hard in the chest and nothing. Next, he clapped his hands a bunch. Finally, he did what any logical person would do and planted a huge one right on Zayn's lips. Zayn spluttered and shot off the sofa, cursing when he cast a quick Tempus charm. He didn't mention the creative way Harry had woken him up. Instead he started summoning various articles of clothing towards himself and throwing them on with more speed than Harry could have imagined._

_That was the first time Harry had ever side along apparated with someone who was carrying a bass. It was the only way obviously that they'd make the show in time. He was half afraid he was going to somehow so splinch one of them, if not break Zayn's bass. Alas, they managed to make it onto the stage intact. And all the adrenaline pumping in Harry's veins combined with the fact that his lips were still tingling from the small lip smack made for an exiting debut._

 

..

 

“Wake up," Harry poked Zayn's cheek gently with his index finger. Zayn made a snuffling noise and burrowed his face deeper into the pillow. 

 

"I'll try," said Niall cheerily. He hopped on the side of Zayn's bed and shook him gently by the shoulders. Harry stifled a snort. 

 

"I will give you permanently lavender hair, Niallar," came out muffled against the pillow. Zayn let out a long groan and flung his left arm out from under the covers. The sleeping tiger on his upper arm was not happy; currently it was baring its teeth in Niall's general direction. 

 

"Bro," Niall said warily.

 

"Oi, this is getting ridiculous. Allow me," Louis said, pushing in front of Niall and Harry. He ripped the covers off Zayn, who Harry had forgotten slept in the nude. Harry wasn't really embarrassed, like he might have been when they were younger. He unabashedly drank in Zayn's naked form. His cock was quiescent, nestled under the dark swatch of hair.  The heart tattoo over Zayn's hipbone looked as dark as ever, contrasting with the slight paleness of the skin of his upper thigh. Harry inhaled sharply, eyes roving over a tattoo he hasn't known Zayn had delicately spreading over his rib cage. It was a bird, but Harry couldn't be sure what kind. Its wings fluttered and stretched out. 

 

Niall's hand squeezing his shoulder brought him back to the present. He tore his eyes away from Zayn as a livid Zayn leaped out of the bed. Or rather crawled, groping around for his wand on the bedside table. Harry rather liked Zayn's wand. It was a bit shorter than his own, a deep mahogany color, smooth and straight, except for his one bend three quarters up the tip. The core was dragon heartstring. Harry was afraid to ask Gemma what that even meant for wand theory and stuff. He wasn't entertaining that many ideas of grandeur.

 

"Okay. I'm awake now," Zayn announced, running a hand through his bed hair, fluffing it up even more. " _Accio_ lucky pants," he mumbled. Harry shivered, for some reason Zayn's voice when he cast spells was incredibly arousing, more so than his speaking voice. It was so commanding and--oh--Harry watched keenly as Zayn rolled out of the bed to put his pants on. Tiny butt muscles flexing as he bent over. Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from gasping or making any inappropriate comments.

 

"If you stare any harder your eyes are going to fall out," Niall whispered in his ear, squeezing Harry's shoulder muscle. Louis was looking at him funny as well. Harry coughed and turned his back to Zayn as he changed.

 

Zayn coughed, “So what’s on the menu for today?” His voice was still gruff from disuse. He looked tired. 

 

..

 

The first American show filled Harry with this incredible bubbling energy that his mere mortal body couldn’t possibly contain. It was in LA. The crowd that night was insane, electrically charged and infectiously ecstatic. Even Zayn looked to be enjoying himself even more than the normal amount. Laughing and joking around more openly than he had earlier on tour. Harry thinks the start of the tour in any country is always this exhilarating and crazy high. A confirmation that their hard work was all worth it, that their fans loved them as much as they loved their fans. 

 

If someone had told him a few years prior that he'd be a member of a world famous wizard pop rock band, he would have laughed until he was hoarse. It was rather ridiculous if he really thought about it. The boys all couldn't believe it when they first made it big, got some contracts all that stuff. Harry thinks Zayn was the most shocked. Zayn, well, Harry remembered, went by Zain at Hogwarts. He changed it to Zayn when the band signed their contract with Simon. Said he, "I want to keep some of myself to myself. I don't want to forget who 'I' am." Harry laughed at the time, but sometimes he wondered what he kept to himself. 

 

Of course his favorite part of the show was when everyone, well everyone eleven and older, cast a lumos when they sang “Moments”. Harry always teared up when Zayn hit the high note at the end, or during Niall's guitar solo. Or even when Louis started to smash even harder on the drums. Harry figures that he is pretty misty eyed for the majority of the song. The closing was incredible and yet Harry could have gone on singing for another hour or so.

 

Harry was buzzing out of his skin after the show; he wanted to touch someone and be touched, share this energy, this heat, with another being. He might burst if he alone had to contain all of it. He gnawed at his fingertips incessantly during the quick jaunt back to the hotel, his leg knocking against Zayn's. Zayn was unusually laconic for post show and had an unfocused look in his eye. Normally he was super hyper and would not stop babbling for hours and hours. Sometimes he even set things on fire with a glance or a brush of his fingers. It wasn't deleterious the fires though, they were happy and light, they never harmed anything. Tonight, his pupils were dilated and his fingertips shaking as he moved his hand to brush his slightly wilted hair out of his eyes. Zayn's tongue darted out to lick at his chapped bottom lip and Harry bit back a groan. But Zayn turned away soon and Harry was left wanting. 

 

They shuffled onto the bus loud as anything and Niall whinging about how he wanted to go out on the town and get rowdy with some groovy American witches. Harry thought about how fun that might have been a year ago. How he would have agreed and jumped at the chance. There was nothing quite like fucking off the high of a show. Louis was whispering rather loudly to Zayn but Harry couldn't make out what he was saying. The pair of them were so secretive sometimes. Harry imagined that was what he and Louis must have seemed like once upon a time. 

 

Harry stroked the sides of the bus windows as he glided onto the bus. It was strange against his fingers. Double protective and triple charmed to repel attention. His reflection was muddled and strange in it, blurs of peach and a shock of reddish brown hair. His eyes were blurred and strange. It startled him. And then arms were wrapping around him from behind. He could barely make it out in the reflection. Zayn was so much shorter than Harry now and slighter. The ink on his arms muddled the reflection, the flashes of skin were hardly visible. 

 

"How would you like to sit next to me on the bus?" Zayn said in a sing song voice. 

 

"I don't know," Harry said, "I don't like to sit in the front normally...you see I'm a cool kid." Zayn didn't say anything. Harry realized the reference may have been lost on Zayn who had never ridden a school bus growing up. 

 

"Was that a yes or no? I'm an impatient man," Zayn grumbled. His voice rumbled low in his chest and Harry could feel it against his mid back. 

 

"Fine, bully," Harry said. 

 

"Get a room you two," Niall hollered from the second floor of the bus. "I've got eyes and ears and the pair of you are nasty." Zayn chuckled low and deep and whisked Harry towards his bunk.

 

Zayn finally let go of Harry once they were sat down on the bunk. Harry was at half chub for no reason. He was excited sure from the show and stuff and Zayn's proximity didn't help. His wiry forearms pressing against his midsection was no help. Zayn pressed a sloppy kiss to Harry's cheek, followed by another and another.

 

"You looked," Zayn whispered against his chin, "Fucking amazing on stage tonight. How do you, I don't...this shirt should not look good on anyone." Zayn fiddled with the end of Harry's sleeve. His shirt was black, mostly, with these flowers, red flowers up the front, which was gauzy and see through. Harry had picked it up at a random muggle shop in London. The Galleon-Pound exchange rate had been good at the time. 

 

"You're not half bad yourself," Harry's breath hitched. His shirt was already unbuttoned nearly halfway and Zayn was making work with the other buttons. His knuckles brushed briefly against Harry's stomach as he did so. Harry wasn't sure if it was on purpose or not. His brain wasn't doing a great job of processing information. Then Zayn stopped as if he had thought about what he was doing. 

 

Harry was hard as a he had ever been, his cock pressing against the zipper of his size too small trousers. It was unbearable, this close proximity with Zayn. And not being allowed to touch. He wanted to scream in frustration or maybe cry. But right now he wanted Zayn to stop knocking his knee into Harry's each time they hit a bend in the road. Then, it changed. Something was different, the way that Zayn, as if on cue, turned to Harry, with a wry smile.

 

"Is that your wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

 

Harry slapped a hand on his knee and squeaked out an embarrassed laugh. He could feel his face getting warmer and warmer. Zayn wasn't saying anything; he was just grinning, the tongue behind the teeth kind of smile. Harry gasped when Zayn slipped a hand onto his knee, then slowly dragging his index finger until it met the juncture of his thigh and hipbone. Harry held his breath. Zayn's hand, with all his rings, hovered just a centimeter or two above his aching cock. Zayn wasn't smiling now, nor was he looking Harry in the eye. His attention was rapt, honed in on Harry's groin as he finally palmed at Harry's erection. Harry let out a low hissing sound. He hadn't gotten off with someone other than his dear friend Jill (his right hand) and some nice massage oil since the Persephone Greengrass incident.

 

"What are you--" Harry bit out, his breathing was shallow and labored when Zayn full on grabbed at his cock through his trousers. 

 

“This is what you want, innit?” Zayn licked his lips. And Harry nodded feverishly. His blood rushing to his nether regions faster than he could have ever imagined. It was near painful. His heart pounded in his chest, he felt feverish almost. 

 

The bus came to a lurching stop, throwing the both of them forward. Harry almost hit his head on the bus window. Zayn stood up like he had been burned. He spared a glance at Harry, briefly, and then stomped off the bus leaving Harry more confused than ever. 

 

..

 

_The incident in Brighton, the one they never spoke about ever again, well, Harry thought about it way more than was probably healthy. It had been a damp and humid night, unusually so for the English seaside. The Head Boys had played a small show that day. And then another in a bar later in the evening. The bar was a mixed one, an experimental project that more liberal Wizarding communities were trying out. Muggles and wizards mingled freely, though magic was strictly prohibited. And the consequences could be grand. That night they played in the bar and after Harry and Zayn went on the pull, the after show buzz invigorating and feeding their libidos._

_Harry and Zayn had ended up chatting up these two birds from Wales or something. They might have even been sisters. The night was beautifully hazy, a lot of firewhiskey and absinthe first to calm the nerves and then after the show to make everything more liquid and easy. It was foggy, but Harry had extracted the memory and reviewed once, a shameful  indiscretion to look back on. The sisters, the friends, they hadn't wanted to be separated for some inane reason. So Zayn and Harry went back to their motel room. A tiny cramped closet of a room with only one full sized bed that creaked like it was going to break._

_Harry had left his eyes open as he kissed the girl, hands running over the soft skin of her thighs to remove her panties. He was too enraptured by Zayn, licking his girl out right on the other side of the bed, hardly a meter away, her muffled moans and the minute thrusts of her hips. Her hands were laced in Zayn's hair, much shorter then, and the way the muscles in Zayn's back tensed and relaxed nearly tore Harry away from his current preoccupation. He was half interested in fucking the girl, thrusts shallow, erratic and unfocused; he was distracted by the soft groans and the sound of skin slapping against skin. Harry had felt bad about his lousy job. He came too early because watching Zayn's hips piston and release proved to be an effective way to induce premature ejaculation._

_Afterwards, the girls thanked them and he and Zayn left the seedy motel. Harry felt a little worse about everything than he had before. His crush on Zayn clearly wasn’t going to go away no matter who Harry slept with and no matter how fit they were. It didn’t help that Zayn didn’t seem to mind pulling girls with Harry. Harry had never believed his little crush on Zayn to be that persistent. He had a girl, who was more than willing and wanted him right in his arms and instead he had gotten off on the sight of Zayn. What kind of shitty person was he? Did Zayn even realize this? He wished he had the strength and the skill to obliviate himself._

..

 

Harry tore back into the hotel room, casting a triple locking charm on the door and completely shedding his jeans by the time he had flopped backwards onto the bed. Possibly the handiest charm he had learned when he came to Hogwarts was a lubrication one. His hand and his cock were soon coated in copious amounts of oil, as he began to stroke himself in earnest. He was painfully hard, the tip of his prick leaking precum and throbbing almost purple. He didn't even have time to finger himself. Harry came with a shout. 

 

Harry lay on the bed, his come in ribbons upon his abdomen for nearly a half hour, just staring at the dark ceiling. It was enchanted, a few twinkling stars and the milky, ethereal glow of a galaxy here or there. When he finally dragged himself out of bed, his spunk had dried. He cleaned it off the muggle way, hissing when the warm flannel touched the over sensitive skin of his flaccid penis and his lower abdomen. 

 

The next morning Harry woke up feeling like complete shit. It was hot in his room and he hadn’t bathed properly after the show the previous night. He felt sticky and disgusting. Sighing, he eased himself out of bed and padded towards the bath. He ran the tap and pulled out a bath bomb his sister had gotten him at this weird muggle soap shop called Luxe, or was it Lush? Harry didn’t care. The bath bombs were basically magical. Harry was pretty positive they must be for them to be so cool and change so many colors. This one was pink and he tossed it in to the water once the water had reached a good level.

 

He was just about to take a dip in when there was an insistent knocking on his door. That was strange, since they didn’t have a show that day. They were supposed to be allowed to do whatever they wanted. He frowned and wrapped a towel around himself. He had a bath cap on of course, which he completely forgot about.

 

“Hey, what’s up?” Harry said before he saw who it was at his door.

 

It was Rhys Zabini. He was a few centimeters taller than Harry; his legs seemed to go on forever. His hair was cropped close to his head as always, and his piercing green eyes, inherited from his mother, were a shocking contrast to his umber skin. Rhys was wearing a three piece muggle suit, which made no sense at all because it was blazing hot that day. His eyebrows went way up on his head when he took in what Harry was wearing, or wasn’t.

 

“Err,” he said, “Hello, Harry.”

 

Harry felt increasingly awkward holding the door open to Rhys in his meagerly dressed state. He wished he had cast a heating charm on the tub to keep the water warm. “Rhys, what are you doing, I mean how are you?” Harry hadn’t seen Rhys since a ministry gala early in the spring of that year. Harry had attended as Persephone's guest and of course Zayn had been Rhys’s date. Rhys looked the same; well maybe a little worse for wear. There were deep bags under his eyes and he seemed more tense than usual. He was normally a pretty relaxed and easygoing fellow.

 

“I’m in California, yeah, weird.” He drew out the syllables, as if he was looking for a proper response. Harry didn’t know what was worse. The fact that he was standing in a towel and bath cap on in front of Zayn’s ex-boyfriend or that Zayn had given him an impromptu hand job on the bus the night before and some of Harry’s come was still leftover and crusting on his lower abdomen. “I’m here on business of course. There’s a great big muggle and wizarding relations summit in Seattle this month. And I thought, well, I planned to visit Zayn originally and I thought I’d still come by to say hello.”

 

“Oh,” Harry said. He really wanted to drown himself in the pink bath right about now. Of course, Zayn and Rhys were still friends or something or even together? Were they still together? Zayn had never really said anything other than that Rhys had rejected the marriage proposal. They could still be together. Which would make Harry the other woman.

 

“The people at the front desk said this was Zayn’s room…” Rhys said. He looked upset and a bit confused. Which made sense to Harry since they must have been still together if Rhys was visiting all the way from Seattle when they were in LA. “Is he in there?” Rhys nodded into the room. Harry after all hadn’t even had the human decency to let Rhys into the hotel room. Harry didn’t know why he was so worried; he had nothing to hide. Zayn was on the bus or was he in a different room? He had no clue. Harry’s brain was mulling over all the different assumptions Rhys could draw from this chance meeting. And none of them really looked good for Zayn or Harry. 

 

“No, I’m pretty sure this is my room,” said Harry, “I don’t know if he stayed on the bus last night or if he’s maybe in the room that was supposed to be my room? He’s not in here, that’s for sure.”

 

“Oh, well we’re going out to brunch. We fire called to talk about it last night. There’s this cute little place, would you like to come?”

 

“Rhys?” Zayn materialized out of nowhere at the door. His hair was tied up in a sloppy bun and he was sporting muggle jeans and a t-shirt. “Harry, what are you…” He smiled quickly taking in Harry’s current state of dress before turning to Rhys.

 

“Oh, Zayn!” Rhys’s face lit up. He pulled Zayn into a tight embrace and Harry wanted to shrink into the ground now more than he ever had in his life. Zayn looked so tiny when they hugged.

 

“Babe, what are you doing? I thought we were meeting out front?” Zayn asked, his expression tight.

 

“I wanted to surprise you. I was just inviting Harry out to brunch. He has yet to give me an answer though. Would your other band mates like to come? I’m on Ministry money.” Rhys had always been _too_ nice, Harry decided. If he were Rhys he would have wanted Zayn all to himself.

 

“Erm,” Harry cleared his throat. “I was actually about to take a bath. But maybe another time, yeah?” Like never. Harry would rather die than suffer through a brunch or whatever the Americans liked to call it with Zayn and Rhys. They were disgustingly cute and they looked so good together.  All skinny and long limbed and attractive and cheekbones and strong jaw lines and perfectly shaved stubble.

 

"S'fine. Get your beauty sleep," Zayn said. He sounded angry and tired. Harry was taken aback.

 

“Aw, that’s too bad, Harry. I always love hearing what you’re up to besides the band and all. You can never trust that lousy _Prophet_. Making up the craziest stories about you all the time. Don’t worry. Zayn tells me he knows the real you. And at Hogwarts, you were a pretty cool guy.” Harry almost upchucked on Rhys’s shoes. He wished he could hate him. But he was so damned friendly. He had actually been decent friends with Harry back at school as well. Rhys was kind of an outcast in his family for the longest time, being sorted into Hufflepuff and all. Plus he was always super curious about Harry being a muggle. He wanted to know all about muggle culture in Britain and everything. They used to study together before Harry had joined The Head Boys. Rhys was a much better student than Harry and was an extremely generous study buddy. He also seemed to steer clear of any drama and tried his best to change his family name. Harry didn’t quite understand that at the time.  So, Harry was surprised that he ended up dating Zayn, a pureblood, in the first place.

 

“Yeah, for sure. We should catch up sometime,” Harry forced a smile onto his face. Of course, once he had joined the band, a lot of his former friendships had fallen by the wayside.

 

“Oooh, Zayn, what do you think? We could go to that really good restaurant tonight for dinner and bring Harry, yeah?” Rhys said.

 

“Oh,” Zayn said. “You mean the one we went to last year when we were in Beverly Hills? I loved that place.”

 

“Exactly. Harry, it’s a date. Join us tonight. But freshen yourself up now.” Rhys and Zayn walked off together and Harry finally closed the hotel door. He smacked his head on the door and groaned. He did not want to go to this dinner at all.

 

..

 

“A local LA witch says she’s seen Harry Styles out in LA with the one and only Ariana Grande. Are the pair working on their new song together? One of Simon Cowell’s trusted employees tells us that they are not involved with each other, but they enjoy song writing and Harry might even have a cameo in one of Ariana’s new music videos. I’d be pretty excited to see that. Also, we saw Rhys and Zayn out together? Are the pair making up? We sure hope so. We love Zahys! The Head Boys’s newest music video to Hex My Girl comes out this Tuesday. Be sure to check the World Wide Wizarding Web and cast the ever handy spell to see its debut.The famous and very powerful wizard Danny Devito best known for his acting in some old wizarding biopics (as well as a few muggle ones) is taking a mystery role in the video. I just want to know if there will even be a girl in this video…”

 

..

 

_It was noon on a hot summer's day. He was eleven, had been for nearly six months. His mum sat at the table apprehensively, her lunchtime tea clutched between her hands. Her face was pale and inscrutable. Harry had just come inside from playing outside with the neighbor’s fat Tabby cat named Bella. Bella had a penchant for scratching. His mother looked shocked when she saw his face, covered with a few reddened scratch marks._

_"Harry, what am I going to do with you?" She let out a mournful sigh and held her face in her hands. Harry was eleven but somewhat empathetic, so he did what any eleven year old would do and hugged his mother, which only seemed to make her shoulders shake more and her breathing more uneven. "I thought I told you, you mustn't play with Bella. She hates you Harry. Look at your face, sweetie."_

_"It's fine. I think she likes to play." Harry explained into his mother's bosom._

_"Harry, dear, you've got a letter in the post. I opened it and, I'm," she lost her words. She had a crazed look in her eye. The one she normally only got when Gemma brought a new boyfriend home. "Also there's this weird owl, who won't leave..."_

_There was an owl, tawny with talons sharper than most of their kitchen cutlery, perched on the side of their sofa, pecking at the upholstered flowers. Harry gaped at it. He'd never seen an owl so close before. He reached out towards it, but his mother slapped his hand away._

_"Don't be daft. Now read your letter."_

_It must have been some cosmic joke. A school for witches and wizards, all the way in Scotland. It sounded something straight out of a young adult book series. The list of supplies was mind boggling as well. Harry wanted a pet owl that was for sure. Maybe he could keep the one in the living room. All sorts of things he had never heard of, pewter cauldron, a wand, a whole bunch of strange animal parts and books with the most ridiculous names._

_"April fools is in April mum," Harry murmured running the slightly yellowed parchment under his fingertips. It was velvety and soft, unlike all the computer paper he had ever touched._

 

_All parents of muggle children were required to attend a meeting, in which they were briefed about having a magical child and given a history lesson. His mother returned from one that had been in Manchester shaken up, a huge dusty history volume in hand. They were all recent, about the wars and politics and, more importantly, muggle-wizard relations, which was an increasingly expansive field. Harry was altogether ambivalent about the whole magical boarding school thing. After all, he was well liked at school, and his powers had yet to manifest themselves in any harmful way. Besides, living away from home for so long seemed daunting. And he would surely miss his friends._

_"I think you should go to the school, Harry." His mom looked massively upset. Her eyes tired and mouth drawn in a tight line. She let out a long sigh, some tension releasing from her body._

_"It's for the best. For all of us. And for you." Harry at eleven couldn't understand much of the subtext. He wouldn't really until he was older. He was just born when the events occurred, plus as a muggle-born there would have been no way for his mum to know, even with the frequent and unexplainable natural disasters and accidents that had occurred those years._

 

..

 

It was hot in LA, especially during the day. Harry could feel the heat of the sun on his neck; sweat beading up under his hat. Harry was walking alone around town, the muggle part where people wouldn’t recognize him. He liked to shop in electronic stores for some reason. Pretend that he was some kid from the middle of nowhere and ask questions about the latest gadgets and I-pads or whatever the kids were playing with nowadays. Sometimes, it was difficult for Harry to balance both sides of his life. It wasn't like his mum and Gemma could have dropped everything to be with him in the magical world all the time.

 

He wondered when and if he really would have to join Zayn and his beau for dinner that night. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to it. The worst part about the whole situation was how much Harry could not hate Rhys. He was kind and caring and very compatible with Zayn. Plus, he made Zayn very happy. Harry wasn’t really sure about all the engagement business, but they had been relatively on and off so that could be a contributing factor.

 

He spent the rest of the afternoon wandering aimlessly around the town. In some ways Harry was happy that The Head Boys were exclusively a wizarding band. While magic afforded him some ways to disguise himself, becoming completely anonymous was rarely possible. But in muggle America, it was easy to disappear and blend in. Albeit, Harry thought blending in meant wearing a ridiculous hat and tall boots, but it wasn’t as if any one was giving him any weird looks.

 

Finally, it was time for the dreaded dinner; Harry had gotten lost in the galleries at the contemporary art museum, and the rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Harry just hoped that his other band mates would come to the dinner and save him. Niall was always looking to eat good food and was somewhat aware of Harry’s embarrassingly painful crush on Zayn. Liam would likely be a helpful and a happy buffer between Harry and everyone else. And Louis, depending on who he was sat next to, would be somewhat of a wild card.

 

Harry removed his hat as he stepped into the restaurant. It smelled nice. Had an open kitchen with wizards performing a variety of displays on food. A flare of fire from the display kitchen sent Harry reeling backwards and into the person standing behind him.

 

A warm hand gripped his shoulder and another steadied him from the waist. Harry sighed. He knew it was Zayn without even having to turn around and look. The hands felt too familiar, and Harry half expected to feel Zayn’s lips against his ear whispering something filthy or some heartfelt secret. Instead he got a brief pat on the back and a gruff, “Alright then, Harry?”

 

“Yeah…m’fine.” Harry swallowed. Zayn was dressed better than he had been this morning, his hair artfully tousled and his eyes looked dewy. His cheeks were even a little red from the heat, or maybe he had spent a little too much time outside that day.

 

“What’d you even do all day?” Zayn asked as Rhys put a hand on Zayn’s shoulder. Harry stiffened at the sight of it. It wasn't in any ways possessive, not curling of fingers, no indent on Zayn's clothing. But it felt like he was staking claim, if that were even possible. Rhys wasn't the type of person to show off, at least Harry had never pegged him as that.

  
“So are the other boys coming or what?” Harry asked, wringing his hands together. His rings felt cool on the inside of his sweaty palms. 

 

“Uh? They said they might come,” Rhys explained. “I made a reservation for enough people. We’ll be right next to the show kitchen.” Harry thanked Merlin for that. At least he wouldn’t have to look at Zayn and Rhys and whatever was going on with the both of them. Zayn nodded. Harry was grateful that Rhys had extended the invitation, however with his other band mates missing, he did not look forward to being the third wheel.

 

Harry watched the wizards and witches cooking, butchering and preparing whole animals in front of them. He wrinkled his nose at it. It was bloodless, luckily, but it was still rather gruesome. Zayn sat between Rhys and Harry, for which Harry was incredibly thankful. But each time he accidentally brushed his leg against Zayn’s under the counter Zayn would lean away from him, scooching imperceptibly closer to Rhys. Harry almost threw up when he noticed Rhys feeding Zayn a piece of his entrée.

 

They chattered aimlessly about random things. Zayn laughed a lot. More than Harry could remember. It was weird; Harry spent so much time with Zayn. Well it seemed like it at least. But sometimes he felt as if he didn't even know him at all. Access to the all the libraries in the world could not compare to how he wished to read Zayn's mind. And know his secrets, his inner workings. Zayn could be transparent that was true. But what Zayn had Harry ever known? Harry knew him as the crush, then the bandmate he occasionally picked up girls with, and now just friends, two fifths of the biggest wizarding band on the planet. Harry wondered how much that actually even meant. Sure Zayn asked him questions and relied on him. But the more Harry saw Zayn interact with Rhys the more he felt like he wasn't wanted, or worse that Zayn didn't need him at all. 

 

“I’m going to run to the loo really quickly,” Zayn said, scratching at his nose. Harry knew what that meant. Zayn was probably about to go pack his little pipe and smoke it outside. It was more of a habit than anything else, at least Zayn did not seem to be stressed at that moment. 

 

Rhys smiled and turned to Harry once Zayn had left. “Harry, how have you been, though?” he asked.

 

“Alright,” Harry shrugged, “A bit tired, you know, because of tour and all. I feel like we’ve hardly had a day off the past few years. But I can’t complain.” It was the automatic answer, the one that he had drilled into his head from day one. Never whine, and never sound ungrateful for the success that the band has had. Harry was almost too good at that.

 

“This isn’t an interview,” Rhys said, “You can speak freely. I’m not going to quote you to the _Prophet_.” Harry was a little perturbed. Rhys was incredibly observant. Frankly, his perceptiveness was a bit unnerving. Harry couldn’t even fathom being in a relationship with someone who noticed so much. Well, seemed to at least. No wonder he and Zayn broke up so many times, what with Zayn’s permanent case of “loose dick syndrome” as Louis might call it.

 

Fidelity in the wizarding world, it was essentially a given. At least this was what Harry had understood since he entered Hogwarts when he was eleven. Magic was such a huge component to compatibility, after all, so it was very seldom that people married the wrong person. That was what all the spell books said. Well, of course young witches and wizards dated and stuff when they were younger, those sorts of experiences were important to building character and whatever. There were cases of love spells and potions, but that was the point. The potion or spell, the magic was what forced people to overlook potential incompatibility. After all, wasn’t that the reason why desperate people would even try to use something like that? So, maybe Rhys and Zayn were a strange couple. Harry knew that they loved each other, or else they wouldn’t have tried so hard to make it work. Harry also understood that adding fame into the whole mix changed things a bit. Just because you were magically compatible didn’t mean that it was easy to find this or find someone who might be willing or all right with the constant surveillance in their life.

 

Harry had always believed that great love, a true love, that soul mates sort of bullshit, would trump everything. That if you loved someone enough that would be enough. Eventually, you’d be able to come together regardless of the most dire of circumstances. It was certainly an idealistic and unrealistic way to go about things, but Harry acknowledged this. So, being so enamored and taken with Zayn had always been stressful for him. He didn’t want to think that he might have met his soul mate or magical equal when he was only eleven.

 

During Harry's time at Hogwarts, his first role model had been Zayn. The third year that helped him get situated on the Hogwarts Express and wiped a smudge of chocolate from the corner of his mouth without thinking. Harry remembered it like it was yesterday. Zayn had pleasantly round cheeks then, but his eyes were the same hazel, like soft honey dripping over gold.  Molten even in certain lighting. They narrowed often when he spoke, and crinkled when he laughed. Zayn had had a pet, a small little lizard called Arnie. He let Harry pet the spiny ridges of his back. Eleven-year-old Harry had been enamored. Never having seen a reptilian pet before, Arnie was incredibly curious to him. Zayn said Arnie was smarter than most cats, even learned how to navigate the castle alone. Harry had been sure he was lying. Zayn had just thrown his head back and laughed before giving Harry a knowing smile. 

 

And when Harry joined The Head Boys, his crush had nearly vanished. He had had a few relationships, if you could even call them that, and Zayn always seemed so untouchable. Of course, that changed over the years. They became better friends and Zayn shared more and more of himself, and this only worsened Harry’s crush. The more Harry got to know Zayn the more Harry realized that he was in deep. His little crush budded and blossomed into love, though Harry was hesitant to acknowledge it as such. The possibility of their being together completely disappeared when Zayn seemed to be so taken by Rhys. Harry remembered the day after the ball where they had met. Apparently Zayn and Rhys had stayed up all night just talking.

 

So sitting with Rhys now was hard. Seeing him made Harry want to pull his hair out and cry. It wasn’t fair. Harry didn’t think that he could love someone who was not meant to be his magical compatible this much.

 

“Harry?” Rhys said. “Do you want to try the beef? It’s really quite good.” Rhys was offering Harry some of his food. Harry stared at the rare piece of meat on Rhys's fork. He wondered if Zayn even ate the beef. Was magical slaughter of a cow acceptable for a magical Muslim to consume?

 

“No, that’s fine,” Harry said, “I’m trying to cut back on red meat. You know what they say about that. ”

 

Rhys shrugged. “Yeah, you bet I do. There's a plethora of interesting muggle literature on the subject. You know,” he began, his voice quieter, “You’re a good guy Harry. And I know you love Zayn a lot.”

 

Harry froze in his chair. The change in subject had been very abrupt and Harry definitely hadn't seen it coming. Was Rhys about to fight him or something? Harry didn’t think Rhys had the balls to be this confrontational. Harry had certainly never planned to act on his feelings if Zayn was with someone. He’d thought about it. But with the weird hand job on the bus then Rhys showing up the next morning, the anxiety it had induced was not how he wanted to feel ever again. The whole half-hand job weighed heavily on his mind. Now, Harry wasn’t the most innocent wizard in the world. He had slept with some married witches and wizards in the past. Usually the spouses of absent and very wealthy Wizgamot members. But those were somehow different. He didn’t actually see the tangible effects of those dalliances, especially since he was surely not the only affair these witches and wizards were having. But, Rhys was his friend, well they used to be friends back at school. And Harry would never want to do something to hurt Zayn or the man that Zayn loved.

 

“And that’s okay,” Rhys said, “I feel like this might sound weird, but I’m glad you’re in the band with Zayn. He really needs someone like you.” Rhys gave him a small smile and Harry wanted to know what the fuck this even meant. He smiled weakly and tried to come up with a proper response. His body felt like someone had hit him with a Jelly-legs jinx, like his legs were unstable. He was thankful he was sitting down.

 

“I’m not sure,” Harry began. “What do you mean?”

 

But before Rhys could answer, Zayn was sliding back into his chair mumbling about how he’d never had to wait in line for the men’s toilet except for when they were in America. Rhys smiled at Harry again and nodded at Zayn when he sat. Harry frowned and poked at his dessert. The dinner left Harry feeling more confused than ever.

 

..

 

The next day went by in a whirl. Harry had slept in to nearly noon, which was quite uncommon for him. The show that night went well. The crowd was lovely and despite all of Harry's racing thoughts he performed fairly well. Of course it couldn't all stay that way. As they were walking off stage, Zayn gave Harry a lingering look. The kind that meant he wanted to talk. Or at least that was what Harry thought it meant. Harry was typically an expert at reading Zayn's expressions, but recently Zayn had been a bit more closed off. Or maybe Harry wasn't as intuitive as he had always thought. Harry paced in front of Zayn's room back and forth for a few minutes, debating if he wanted to go in. He chewed on his bottom lower lip and wrung his hands together. 

 

He was sweating a bit from the show. Well, it was more like he was completely drenched. He hadn't even gone back to bathe. Harry let out a long sigh, and raised a hand up to knock on Zayn's room’s door. But Zayn had opened the door before he could. "I can hear you thinking out here. What do you want, Haz?" 

 

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Zayn didn't look mad or anything. Just tired. “Is Rhys around?” Rhys had been at the show that night. Harry tried to ignore him standing right in front of the barrier bopping his head along to all the songs. It had been the first time Harry had even seen him wearing casual clothes. His arms looked way more muscular than Harry would have imagined.

 

Harry normally liked to jam with Zayn during one of his bass solos. Once he even licked Zayn's bass in the heat of the moment. It tasted like sweat and magic. There was no other way to describe it. That sure made the fans hoot. And it made the front page of _The Prophet,_ the trash newspaper. That evening, however, Zayn seemed to turn away every time Harry approached. Angling his body ever so slightly, making Harry fool around with Niall or even Liam on the keyboard. It changed the dynamic of the entire set. At least subliminally, Harry felt like a part of him was cut off. Maybe it was because Rhys was right there, but the flow of the entire show felt off because of that.

 

“No? Why would he be?” Zayn said. “He had to go back to Seattle for the conference. They’ve got an early start tomorrow or something. Why don’t you come in?”

 

"I, well. I feel like we should talk. You seem distant?"

 

"Hey, sure. Umm feel free to sit anywhere." Zayn walked into the room. It was dark and he sat down on the edge of the bed, it creaked slightly with his weight. Zayn nodded, and Harry cautiously sat next to him. Well, he was sat nearly a meter away from Zayn, hands balled up on his knees. 

 

"Are you mad at me?" Harry asked. The question hung in the air thick and unwanted. 

 

"No?" Zayn eyed him warily, he licked his lips. "What made you think that?"

 

"Dunno," Harry said. "You just seem different."

 

"Maybe." Zayn shrugged. Harry tried not to follow the line of his neck to his jawline, slightly illuminated by the glow of Zayn's lumos.

 

"It's just," Zayn let out a low grumble, "This whole thing with Rhys, everything. There's a lot of stuff going on right now. And I'm trying to sort it out you know? It’s been stressful. More so than usual." 

 

"What do you mean?” Harry asked. He thought that Rhys and Zayn were on better terms than they had been the last time he had seen them together. Zayn grimaced at the words. He ran a hand through his hair. "You can talk to me, you know that?" 

 

Zayn took out a small smooth stone. It was gray and worn around the edges.  He held it out to Harry. Harry touched it and it glowed a bright green, nearly the same color as Harry's eyes. It scared him a bit. Green normally meant sort of bad, right? Since the whole _Avada Kedavra_ curse was a scary green in color. Holding the stone in his hand sent a shiver up his entire arm that reverberated through his entire body. Zayn closed his hand around the stone and pocketed it. 

 

“Cool right? I gave this to him for our anniversary last year,” Zayn explained. Harry nodded but didn’t say anything. “It’s a touch stone, you know. Something that you can use to feel grounded. I don’t know. My mum thinks that they’re really cool. Have magical properties and stuff that we don’t even know about. They’re supposed to guide you through your life and what not.”

 

"I thought you didn't really believe in all that stuff. Said it was all bullshit?" Harry said. He distinctly recalled Zayn going on a long rant on the lack of validity of Divination and how it was a waste of time and why were students, it just lead to self fulfilling prophecies. He extended a hand out to pat Zayn on the shoulder. Zayn leaned into the touch and Harry instinctively scooched closer to him on the bed. 

 

"I'm not sure," Zayn grumbled. Harry could feel the vibration and slight pulsing in his hand. “Rhys, he said he didn’t need it anymore.” Zayn was a strangely tactile person, at least that was what Harry thought. He liked to hold things in his hands, cigarettes, his wand. Plus he liked to fiddle with his rings, twirling them around his fingers, around and around. 

 

“Wait are you,” Harry put the pieces together. “Did he come here to break up with you?”

 

“Among other things. We're good. But I think it’s for real this time,” Zayn said, his voice low and barely audible. Physical contact seemed to assuage many of Zayn's problems; at least that's what Harry had always believed. So Harry wrapped himself around Zayn. 

 

...

 

"About time? Harry Styles was seen leaving the all too popular wizarding spot, the Owl's Green, in LA, with our favorite singer/song witch Taylor Swift. Rumor has it they had a mutual friend in town and they both attended the top secret event. The pair were together a few years back, but are they flirting with each other again? Or maybe, should we be expecting a collaboration from this lyrical witch and this epically famous boyband? The ladies and even a few gentlemen in _The Prophet's_ office are all chomping at the bit. There's been no word from either of their agents. We will all just have to wait."

 

...

 

_The first person Harry slept with at Hogwarts was a fifth year Slytherin boy. Charlie Thomas was a nice boy, despite his impressive size and rather muscular stature. He stood nearly a head taller than Harry and perhaps twice as thick. Charlie was best friends with the notorious trickster and person who would eventually become Louis's protégé, Elizabeth Finnegan. He was the keeper on the Slytherin Quidditch team and Harry thought he might have been in love when Charlie got on his knees under the bleachers, sweaty from practice, and mouthed at Harry through his jeans. In retrospect the blow job had been messy and not very good, but it was his first one so he came super fast._

_They spent the rest of the year fumbling about in different nooks and crannies in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts after band practice or before, in the late hours before curfew. Harry didn't think they were boyfriends or anything and he certainly didn't really want them to be. Sure, Charlie was nice enough, but Harry didn't like like him. It was kind of convenient, because the keeper had a betrothed, which Harry didn't understand in the least. Harry was happy enough with their situation though, he never got butterflies in his stomach when he saw Charlie, nor did he particularly like the way Charlie's lips curved when he smiled. Something wasn't right about it, the set of his eyes, too close together, the slant of his nose, not quite sharp enough. But Charlie taught Harry all about stretching and more precise lubrication spells that made Harry's first time extremely painless and, well, he came harder than he ever had in his entire life._

 

..

 

The North American tour wrapped up without much to say. Since the band had matured a bit, they didn't get into unnecessary drama with groupies, well not as much anymore. Zayn and Rhys were done it seemed, but they hadn’t released that bit of fun to the press yet. Zayn had wanted to, of course, but it would stir up unnecessary drama in Rhys’s life, especially when he was working on some super exciting new legislation in international muggle-wizard relations. Harry was bone tired and ready to sleep in his bed at home. He was more than relieved to crash into his bed when he arrived back at his flat on the break. Zayn and he were still awkward and yet they still cuddled almost every night towards the end of the tour, Zayn snuggling closer into Harry's back, snuffling and such. Whispering about random nothings. Needless to say, Harry slept horribly and performed relatively poorly the rest of the tour. The critics couldn't tell the difference but Harry's energy, his magic even felt off. He was imbalanced and anxious.

 

Zayn didn’t talk too much about Rhys or what the state of their relationship even was. It seemed to be a clean break this time Zayn would tense up if Harry or anyone else even mentioned Rhys or the band. Or anything really. Zayn was acting so strange and Harry couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe he realized Harry was just no good. That was probably it. Harry rolled over onto his stomach and punched at his pillow. Even when he wasn’t with Zayn he couldn’t help but think about him and worry about what was going or not going on between them. Harry definitely had never liked anyone as much as he did Zayn. Never thought about a single person for so long. It was like a virus. If Harry remembered any year 5 material, the stuff he learned before going to Hogwarts, viruses infiltrated you at a cellular level. They took over your DNA machinery and made replications of themselves to infect other cells. Now, of course Harry didn’t feel physically ill, but he was sick with Zayn. He was obsessed. Zayn plagued his every thought.

 

His owl Barnabus hooted softly from his perch in the corner. He was looking shaggier than usual. Harry dragged himself out of his bed to go examine the owl up close. Harry ruffled at his neck feathers and wondered what he'd do that night. He was probably contractually obligated to show up at some benefit or event for Simon. He was considered the front man for The Head Boys after all. Give a post tour interview to the WWN. He wouldn’t mind that so much. Maybe his favorite wizarding radio host, Nick Grimshaw, would give him softball questions.

 

Harry managed to avoid any responsibilities that night; instead he stayed in and cooked the muggle way. There was something removed about using magic to slice and dice and sauté everything. Not that Harry always had time to do it, but he liked the feel of vegetables under his hands, and using a knife to slice through uncooked meat. It was visceral almost. He went to bed feeling satisfied, stomach comfortably full and mind occupied with less thoughts of Zayn.

 

At three in the morning Harry received a fire call. Of course it was Zayn. His face appeared ethereal and otherworldly in the orange and yellow flames that licked at his cheekbones and jawline. His eyes looked tired and his mouth was a short tight line. But perhaps that was just a trick of the fire. Harry had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He knelt down next to the fireplace in his bedroom in the pair of pants he had worn to sleep that night, yawning big before his face broke out into a smile. He almost wanted to stroke the embers with his pointer finger.  He had accidentally done that when he was younger, resulting in a heinous burn that had been quickly healed in the infirmary. 

 

"Hey," Zayn's mouth emitted a few sparks. 

 

"What's up?" Harry's voice came out more like a croak than anything.

 

“Nothing, really. Just a lot on my mind,” Zayn said sheepishly.

 

“Yeah, you’re up pretty late, listening to late night WWN?” Zayn had always been a huge fan of late night radio shows. They lulled him to sleep. Harry could never stay awake for them, the hosts were normally rather boring.

 

"Nah," Zayn said, "Just thinking, yeah? You know how it is." Harry did. Being thrust in and out of tour, moments of high activity and then nothing. The transition was abrupt. It felt like being pulled out of a pensieve, a memory, dream like. And suddenly it was cold and there was only a ringing noise in one's ears.  

 

"Can I come over?" The embers shifted slightly. Harry imagined Zayn was scratching the back of neck or something. It was an odd hour to be calling.

 

"Yes," Harry said faster than he could even think it. "I mean. You know, you're always welcome. Right?" 

 

The embers moved again, Zayn's mouth curving into a small grin. "Yeah, I'll be over soon then. Thanks." 

 

Harry sat back on his heels and cursed when the flames finally spat out. A few loose embers tumbled onto his carpet. He extinguished them quickly. He pushed himself onto the balls of his feet and stood up, a hand on the mantle. Harry was slightly concerned by the fire call. What could Zayn possibly want? He paced for a few seconds in front of his bed. Sighing, he laid back down on his bed, fingers laced together over his solar plexus. He expected the knock any second now. The soft knock of Zayn's knuckles against his door. Or the floo lighting up in his living room. 

 

But he didn't hear the knock. Harry woke up to the feel of the sheets being pulled over his body. He cracked his eyes open. Zayn's stubbled face swam before him. "Go back to sleep, Haz," he murmured, "Didn't mean to wake you."

 

Harry felt Zayn's wiry arms surround him and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe it was a dream, the whole fire call and the being at home. He could feel some of Zayn's stubble brush against the back of his neck. He let himself shiver and lean into the contact. The reverberation from Zayn's chuckle traveled into Harry's body, curling his toes. Zayn's lips moved against the back of Harry's neck. Harry wasn't great at lip reading when he could actually see them, but he was pretty sure he knew the feel of those three words. Before he could clarify, he drifted into a much needed slumber. 

 

..

 

"Do you ever think about what your life would be like if you didn't get your letter?" Zayn asked, brushing hair from the nape of Harry's neck. It was barely a whisper but Harry heard it. Harry felt lips and stubble press right against the notch at the end of his cervical spine. The sun was pouring into Harry's bedroom and he could feel it hot against his legs, which were entwined with Zayn's. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them. He wasn’t dreaming.

 

"No," Harry said. His voice came out as more of a croak than anything. He stretched his free arm out. The other was somewhere – well it was tangled with Zayn's. Harry smiled. The magical ink of one of his chest swallows was nestled softly, close to the tiger on Zayn's bicep.

 

That was a lie. Harry had lived it one summer. When he was fifteen he worked in a bakery during the summer. It was pretty fun, but unfulfilling. All Harry wanted to do was visit the lads and hang out making music and stuff. Instead, he spent most of his days covered in flour and sweat, which wasn't awful, but he just ached for magic. The rush of using a spell under his fingertips. The tingle of his fellow warlocks in close proximity. Obviously, thinking about that summer really didn't matter. 

 

"Babe, don’t have to think that much about it, I can wait for the answer," Zayn grumbled. He sounded regretful and Harry couldn't understand why. Harry leaned into the vibrations from Zayn's chest. "I'm trying to sleep."

 

Harry rolled over to face Zayn. Their breath mingled slightly. Normally, that would have been unpleasant. But there was something lovely about Zayn. The cadence of his breathing and the small noises he made on occasion. He slid his hands through Zayn's hair. It was freshly cut. The buzzed sides were down to this soft stubble.  Harry really liked to play with it, he decided, brushing the pads of his fingers gently over the side of Zayn's scalp. Zayn made a low purring noise, curling low from in his chest. Harry almost winced at the upward curve of Zayn's pink lips. Sometimes when he was with Zayn, when he looked at him this close, he forgot all the troubles that he associated with his bandmate, his dear friend. After all, someone who looked so beautiful, so perfect, he couldn’t possibly be that bad? Harry believed that. Zayn was sweet and kind and wouldn’t ever drag Harry through the mud if he were still with Rhys.

 

Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips to the tip of Zayn's nose.  He then licked the tip of it.

 

"What the fuck?" Zayn laughed, his eyes opening a crack. It was dim in the room and Harry could barely make out his face. But something had changed; there was an openly hungry look in Zayn's eyes. Ravenous even. Harry felt like he was being stripped down to the bone, down to his skeleton, with the intensity and searching in his bandmate's expression. 

 

The first touch of their lips wasn't a surprise. It was wet and uncoordinated. Harry felt his jaw clicking and their teeth knocked together once or maybe twice. But a fire was burning in his gut that soon spread to his groin and the rest of his body. The only way to put it out was to keep kissing Zayn. Harry imagined that this was what the fountain of youth must be like; he could stay young forever if he was wrapped up in Zayn like this, lips attached and limbs haphazardly intertwined. Harry could feel himself fattening in his pants, but he didn't want to break the kiss for fear it would be over. It felt better than any of the magic Harry had ever cast. Zayn's lips were the most perfect, magical, wondrous things, and his stubble scraping against Harry's chin was almost unbearable. Zayn was sporting a semi against his leg, causing Harry to let out a deep groan, rubbing himself into Zayn. 

 

Finally Zayn pulled back, lips swollen and wet, pupils dilated and hair slightly mussed. "Can I suck your cock?" It came out barely louder than a whisper. "Please?"

 

"Yeah! I mean yes, if you want," Harry fumbled for words. Zayn grinned and in a whoosh Harry's pants were spelled off, his cock springing up almost comically to slap against his abdomen. Zayn took him into his hand and jacked him a few times before his breath ghosted over the tip. Harry cried out at Zayn's initial exploratory licks that dipped lightly into his slit, tasting his precum and swirling around the rest of the head.

 

"You're really wet," Zayn noted before he swallowed Harry to the root. It felt like the air had been punched out of him. Harry stifled his moans with the back of his hand as he watched Zayn bob up and down, cheeks hollowed from suction. It wasn't the best blow job he had ever had by technical standards. Zayn was enthusiastic and a little bit sloppy but Harry couldn't help but buck his hips in uncoordinated thrusts and run his hands through Zayn's hair and over the stubble on the side of his head. 

 

"You like that?" Zayn asked, voice thick, after Harry had thrust enthusiastically, the tip of his cock hitting the back of Zayn's throat. His mouth was slick and lips puffy, swollen. Harry almost leaped off the bed when he felt deft fingers press against his perineum. And suddenly, his hole was slick and loosened, the rush of Zayn's magic swelling around him and through his body. Harry fucking loved magic. 

 

"Fucking," Harry choked. "Hell, you're so good." Harry almost wanted to cry, tears welling up in his eyes. It was as if Zayn's fingers had a map to his body when they efficiently found his prostrate. Harry's vision went white when he came down Zayn's throat. 

 

"Can I fuck you?" Zayn voice was wrecked and hoarse.

 

"No," Harry mumbled. He didn't want that. He was coming to his senses a bit. He couldn't. What were they even doing in the first place? "I mean, not like this." It felt wrong. Zayn didn't say anything.

 

Instead Zayn rolled Harry onto his side, guiding his legs together. "Is this okay?" Zayn mumbled against his neck. Harry nodded as he felt Zayn's cock press into the cleft of his asshole but instead it slid past in between his legs, which were slick from sweat. Zayn was full stop; his cock nestled underneath Harry's balls. “Can I get off in between your legs?” Harry nodded vigorously and Harry clamped his legs together as well as he could and shivered with each pass of Zayn's prick across his sensitized skin. Soon Zayn pulled away, coming into his own hand. Harry cast a scourgify before Zayn collapsed onto the bed and threw an arm over him.

 

...

 

The whole coming over in the middle of the night and having weird intercrural sex (yes Harry looked it up on his dusty old computer) was not a recurring event. In fact, when Harry had woken up a few hours after the event, Zayn was nowhere to be found. At first Harry thought Zayn had maybe gone out to get them breakfast or had left a note, but both were untrue. He had scoured the entire flat looking for clues and out of desperation had Barnabus bring Zayn a letter. Of course, all of these things never worked out for Harry. Barnabus returned, letter still in beak and he could not find shit in the house. Harry was livid. So he spent the rest of the day whinging on the phone to his mum and Gemma and drinking what was left of the moonshine like concoction Niall had once brewed during their sixth year. Harry was a little surprised that he didn’t even get sick. It was probably Niall’s special touch.

 

Harry was angry. What could Zayn have possibly needed to do that morning that he completely disappeared? It didn’t make sense. Zayn had always been the type to drop off the face of the planet for several days at a time, but he normally resurfaced or at least contacted one of the boys beforehand. From what Harry was aware of, this was not the case. Harry was tempted to write a quick letter to one of Zayn’s family members, but figured that might come off a little crazy and desperate. After all, Zayn was twenty two years old and perfectly capable of handling himself. Harry was more frustrated with himself for letting Zayn in without properly telling him what was on his mind. That seemed to be happening a lot as of late.

 

So Harry was drunk by the time he showed up at the club that night[; he was more than a little bit tipsy from all of Niall’s moonshine stuff. Also, he was convinced he had never drunk that much fire whiskey in his life. He was drinking a lot in part because he liked the feel of his body, all jelly like and loose. And because Zayn was a mean man. A bad man who had hurt Harry’s feelings. Harry didn’t get it. One minute Zayn was about to fuck him and the next he hadn’t heard from him at all.

 

Niall slapped him on the back, jolting him out of his melancholy review of the events of the last few days. So Harry assumed it must have been a rebound, and Zayn realized better of himself. “Mate, how much did you have to drink?” Niall sounded like he was not having as much fun as he should have. Harry corrected this by sloshing half of his drink all over Niall’s shirt.

 

“You’re not having enough fun, Ni!” Harry said, slapping a sloppy kiss on Niall’s cheek. Well, he missed and ended up kissing Niall on the temple.

 

“Haz,” Niall took him by the shoulders, “Are you alright? How much did you have to drink? I haven’t seen you this off your rocks since Hogwarts, bro.” Harry threw his head back and laughed. That was definitely true, if he was remembering anything correctly at all. Niall had once brewed this wicked strong absinthe type drink, which tasted like green apples and rainbows, but was nearly 200 proof. Essentially, Niall figured out a way to rid the alcohol of its ethanol taste.

 

“Have you, Niall, have you even wished the birthday person a good birthday?” Harry slurred. “Did we, were we supposed to bring presents? Because I definitely didn’t do anything like that today.”

 

That night was the birthday of someone well associated with Harry Fucking Potter. So naturally, the Wizarding World made it into a whole bloody holiday or something. Harry never really got it that well. Liam had insisted they come to his favorite club in the world, The Funky Buddha, which had their muggle nights as well as Wizarding ones. The owner was a half-blood intent on making his Knut from both the Wizarding and muggle worlds. The club was throwing a huge celebration in honor of the Harry Potter relative and all the more important witches and wizards were meant to be in attendance, at least that’s what Liam said when he dragged Harry out of his flat.

 

Harry swayed back and forth on his feet. The press of everyone else's body seemed to support him fine. His shoes felt too small and his shirt too loose. He looked around for a familiar face but everyone looked sort of the same. It was funny because a remix of a song Harry wrote for a little American witch starlet was playing when he locked eyes with Zayn from across the dance floor. Zayn's face was inscrutable in the multicolor and flashing club lighting. So Harry naturally approached him, pushing his way past party goers and other equally if not more drunk patrons of the club. Harry was going to give Zayn a talking to. Then he was going to drag his arse back to his flat if that was the last thing he’d do and they would cuddle the crap out of one another. The plan was a good one.

 

Zayn was standing alone one hand stuffed in his pocket and the other holding a bright orange colored drink. His hair was loose and all Harry wanted to do was run his hands through it. So he did. Zayn flinched but eventually leaned into the touch like a cat. Harry reckoned Zayn would look smashing as a cat. "You're fucking smashed Haz," Zayn pushed Harry back a bit. Harry leaned into Zayn, head lolling onto his shoulder. He was so warm and a little dizzy and Zayn was oasis. He was cool and collected and calm and Harry dragged his fingertips over his chest and dipped them into Zayn's shirt. 

 

"What are you doing?" Zayn didn't sound very amused. But he didn't push Harry off him, either. He just stood there, stiff as a board or a cement block. A friendly cement block, Harry thought as he felt the taut muscles of Zayn's abdominals. Zayn's body vibrated with energy in response. It begged Harry to touch him more. "Haz?"

 

Harry snuggled closer into Zayn's shoulder, slobbering most likely and biting at the slightly tanned salty skin of his exposed neck. It was the best tasting thing that Harry had ever had the pleasure of having in his life. "Bad Zayn. I’m so mad at you, but I can’t help it, you just taste so good," he explained continuing to lave his tongue over the veins and sinews in Zayn’s neck. Zayn was stiff but he didn’t push Harry off nor did he encourage the puppy like behavior.

 

"I like you so much," Harry gushed plastering his body further against Zayn's. He could feel the solidity of Zayn's body. Even his wand where it was holstered to his side. Harry almost laughed at that but instead settled for sucking another mark onto the side of Zayn's neck. "I’ve always liked you, since we were kids. Why don't you like me back?" Harry pulled back for a moment. He squished Zayn's cheeks, or what he could between his fingers. Zayn's teeth were so white, which was weird. Harry went to a muggle dentist once a year still but Zayn definitely didn't. He wanted to kiss him and love him for the rest of his life.

 

"I like you plenty Haz..." Zayn's voice was quiet in the din of the club. His hand glanced off Harry’s back as if he unsure where to place it. Harry could distantly hear Louis screeching in the background. 

 

"I'm so happy, so happy you came out," Harry yelled right into Zayn's face. “You never ever come out and it makes me so sad, but now I’m happy. And I love you. And I love us together in this band. It's the best thing that's ever happened to me, besides getting my letter. You know? And…” He steered his lips right towards Zayn's. But at the last second, Zayn turned his head and Harry got a mouthful of ear. Which he didn't mind at all apparently, Harry liked all of Zayn. And his ear tasted really good and it was soft and yummy. He took Zayn’s ear lobe in between his teeth and nibbled gently on it.

 

"Yeah," Zayn's voice sounded distant and Harry kept swirling his tongue around his ear. "That's enough, Harry..."

 

“No, Zayn. You’re wrong. It’s not enough,” Harry whined, “It’s never enough.” He felt like he might start crying any second now. His head hurt and his eyes were watering. There was liquid coming from his goddamn eyes. He wiped at it with the back of his palms.

 

“Harry,” Zayn sounded disturbed. Harry felt Zayn’s hands rubbing his shoulders in a soothing way. But it wasn’t helping. He felt like he was going to be sick.

 

Soon, Niall's hands were on his back plying him away from Zayn. "Okay, Haz, I think you’ve had enough? Let’s get you some water." Harry whined incoherently. He liked Zayn's ear so so much. Oh and also the sick he was feeling was the need to throw up, and he promptly did so all over Niall's shoes. 

 

...

 

Harry woke up feeling like shit and for some reason he was atop a pile of robes. And he was definitely in someone else’s house. He didn't know whose it was. He couldn’t recognize any of the furniture or the room he was currently in. There was so many robes and his wand was missing in action. His head was absolutely throbbing and his mouth felt like an unwashed toilet. He rubbed at his temples with his forefingers. Running a hand through his hair, he frowned; it felt clumpy and greasy. Absolutely disgusting. Was that throw up on his shoes? It definitely was. Harry groaned and tried to get up. It didn't work. His legs were officially broken. He hadn't felt this bad since the first time he had drank with the boys, all the way back when he was about fifteen. If he recalled anything at all, it was that he had always been an extremely handsy drunk. 

 

Luckily, his confusion didn’t last long as Liam padded into the room. He was wearing just his pants and a silly looking hat. He started when he saw Harry laying amongst all the robes and what not. “Harry, I thought Niall took you home last night. Are you okay?” He walked over to Harry, eyes narrowed. His nostrils flared as he walked closer. Harry snorted; he must have smelled like horseshit and booze.

 

“So is this Sophia’s place then?” Harry grunted. “It’s kind of nice.”

 

"Pepper up potion?" asked Liam. It appeared in front of Harry in a whoosh. He nodded in thanks and downed the bottle.

 

“Thanks for that, fucking a, what did I even do last night,” Harry asked, rubbing his temples. “I feel like total bollocks right now.”

 

Liam shrugged, “Beats me. We all came here after the Funky Buddha. I swore Niall was supposed to get you home. It’s kind of a blur. I had a lot of fun. Sophia is…” Liam went off on a fairly long tangent about how Sophia was the greatest girlfriend in the whole world and super smart and one of the best witches at magic he had ever met in his entire life. “Do you want anything else? You could draw a bath or something, there’s an unused guest room I believe.”

 

"Uhh, water? Hangover remedy and a headache one would be good while you're at it!" Harry called. He dislodged himself from the coats and nearly toppled over when he tried to stand up. He reached out and grabbed the nearest curtains to hold himself up. He almost tore them down from the wall in the process. He was doing really well for himself.

 

"Whoa there, mate?" Liam came into the room. "You look like total shit, Harry. Your hair, I've never seen something so, I don't know. Bird like?" 

 

"Aww, thanks Liam. You always know what to say," Harry laughed. "Do you know where my wand is? I tried to accio it and it didn't work...."

 

"You're a moron," Liam chuckled. "Do you remember nothing from last night?" 

 

"Don't be mean. I remember things," Harry said slowly. "Like," he said sticking his tongue out. He remembered getting very familiar with Zayn's ear lobe. "Like when we got to the club and I danced with a lot of people."

 

"Yeah, I remember you climbing Zayn last night," Louis hollered walking into a room. He was waggling his damned eyebrows now that was for sure.  He looked pleased with himself, what with the way he twirled his wand between his fingers and how he walked with a damned swagger. "Fucking gave his ear a tongue bath that's for sure. I bet it's real clean now."

 

Harry threw a barf covered shoe at Louis and naturally he missed.  Louis guffawed for a moment and shot a wry grin at Harry. "Zayn? Where's Zayn? Is he around here?"

 

"No," Liam said at the same time Louis said, "Yes." Louis gave Liam a short nod and then threw his head back and laughed. Harry frowned and his head just felt even worse. This pepper-up potion was certainly slow to work. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if Liam had given him something else.

 

"He's got you by the wand that's for sure," Louis snickered. Harry frowned but couldn’t come up with a scathing enough retort. "I'm serious though. He has got your wand. And he's at home, I assume. Doesn’t really go many other places when we’re in the UK…You know that Harry." Louis made a scrunchy face again. There was something they were not telling him. Liam wouldn't really look Harry in the eye. 

 

"Well that's pretty damned stupid. What am I supposed to do without it!" Harry wailed. He laughed at the utter helplessness of the situation. And the fact that Zayn wasn't even with him at the moment. Was he mad at Harry or something? It wasn't as if Harry had thrown up on Zayn. It was Niall, right?

 

"It’s not like you hardly use magic anyways, Harold. Also, we were afraid you were going to hex someone’s cock off last night. You were pretty hilarious. Besides, it’s not like any of us have any plans today, so it doesn't matter too much. You can fuck around or something? Do whatever _The Prophet_ says you do, eh?" Louis said. Harry frowned. They had been so unfriendly to Harry and the whole band as of late. Harry was pretty sure he hadn't snubbed any _Prophet_ reporters. It was always hard to tell with their rather sneaky investigatory and invasive reporting. 

 

"You're not telling me you actually believe all that shit," Harry waved a hand. He pouted.

 

"Nah," Liam rubbed at his belly, "We know you don't get around that much, do you?"

 

"Excuse me, Liam?" 

 

"I'm joking. Of course you know I know." Liam chuckled and Harry felt like he half believed him. He shook his head and his hair fell, slightly slapping him in the side of the face. It strangely hurt, in an uncomfortable, greasy way.

 

"Well, I'm going go grab my coat. And I'm going to go pick up my wand then. Let me, um, borrow your floo really quickly." Liam obliged of course and by the time Harry was sorted and ready to go Louis had retreated to wherever he had even come from in the first place.

 

...

 

“Too much to handle? The first time we’ve seen Harry Styles out in London and he’s a right mess. We’ve not seen a scandal quite like this since well, Harry Potter and his lovely wife Ginevra hit a bump in the road a few years back. A drunk Harry Styles molests his bandmate Zayn Malik in the Funk Buddha at the benefit for Teddy Lupin’s Birthday. Turn to page 7 for some intense moving pictures of Harry getting hot and heavy as he macks on one lucky Zayn Malik. Although, rumor has it Zayn is still with his long term boyfriend Rhys Zabini. An insider member of The Head Boys management team has said that Zayn and Harry are just good friends and that Harry does not have a drinking problem. Regardless, I can certainly say that I am one jealous witch right now. I would definitely love to have Harry Styles all up in my potions if you know what I mean. Catch some of The Head Boys on the WWN where they’ve won an award for being the Most Sensational W-Pop band of the week. WWN will be playing their new album all week.”

 

…

 

When Harry was younger he had dreams of being a pop star. A proper muggle one. It was one of many dreams, of course. Along with a rabbit farmer and a regular farmer and a baker and firefighter (before he found out it was dangerous). Of course, by the time he went to Hogwarts, these dreams were all long forgotten. A whole new world of possibilities was opening before him after all. While Harry was most clumsy and it took time for him to get used to magic, he could see himself doing a mirage of different careers.

 

Of course, joining the band was difficult for him. He was out on a limb. Being the only muggleborn was tough in a band full of rowdy Wizarding children. The learning curve was rather steep for Harry, who was already a strange boy amongst muggles. The boys used to play all sorts of tricks on him on the road the first year. Harry was also the youngest so he felt pretty fucking stupid and humiliated often. There was one time where they spelled his wand semi-permanently to his back and he couldn't find it for a full three days. But Zayn, Zayn had always been there for him. In the band and at school. Zayn had always looked out for him.  

 

So as Harry flooed into Zayn's flat, he was reminded of when Zayn finally caved and told Harry his wand had been on his back the entire time. Harry's hands were sweaty for some reason. He'd seen, well, he glanced at a few newspapers scattered near Sophia's fireplace. There were loads of pictures of Harry so it didn't bode well. Zayn always seemed so weird about stuff like that. Zayn's flat was stark clean. Which was strange, Harry had always thought. His bedroom, of course, was a mess. But the rest of it didn't look very lived in. 

 

"Zayn?" Harry called. And he heard Zayn's muffled voice call out from his bedroom. Zayn emerged finally in only his loose gray pants and his hair disheveled and looking slept on. 

 

"Harry, what's up?" Zayn seemed confused. The bags under his eyes were deep and he didn't look quite as cute as he had last night at the club. But he had massive hickies running up his neck, a preponderance of reddish, purple ones on each side of his neck. It looked like some sort of neck sucking barnacle had attacked him.  Harry was in shock. Had Zayn slept with someone the previous night? An intense flare of jealousy fired through his gut. Harry was livid. Hadn’t he seen Zayn the night before? Wasn’t Zayn still sad about Rhys? And what the hell, Zayn liked Harry! Zayn wanted to fuck Harry, or at least that’s what it seemed like a few nights ago.

 

"My wand, do you have it?" Harry extended his hand. He felt like a complete buffoon doing that, but he couldn’t think of any other way to expedite this already painful meeting. Harry must have looked like complete shit too. He hadn’t even bothered to look in the mirror at Sophia’s place. He was too afraid.

 

"Yeah," Zayn said. "Yeah. It's in my room I'll just go grab it really quickly. Hold on a sec." Harry followed after him, but Zayn made a weird face and closed himself off in his room before Harry could come any closer. This only confirmed Harry's suspicions. He must have had some lover or paramour over. Was it Rhys? No, Rhys would have been up and about already; the man never seemed to sleep from what Harry remembered. He frowned and flopped down onto Zayn's sofa. Which was the most comfortable thing he had ever sat on in his entire life. It was soft dark brown and beautiful. Just like Zayn. The thought of someone else getting to be with Zayn was sickening. But he and Zayn never addressed anything so he couldn't get possessive. That would be completely unreasonable.

 

"Here it is." Zayn handed Harry his wand and Harry pretended not to notice the spark he felt when they both held onto it for the briefest of moments. "How are you feeling today?"

 

Harry tucked his wand away and chuckled. "Yes, I am alright. Yes, I've been better. You?" Harry wondered who Zayn's sexual partner was. The one he was currently hiding in his bedroom. 

 

"No. I'm good, I didn't drink last night. Too much at least. You seem like you look alright, yeah?" Zayn was scratching lightly at the marks on his neck. Harry wondered if he even knew they were there. He certainly didn’t seem to be bothered by them at all. Zayn was typically pretty embarrassed over PDA and hickies but he didn’t seem to mind these ones. Normally at Hogwarts he would cover them with scarves and a popped collar. And on the road he always had some cover up handy for this sort of shit. Harry wanted to scream and cry at the same time. Instead he just steeled himself and chose to stare at an interesting mural on Zayn’s wall.

 

“Err, sure?” Harry offered.

 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself mate,” Zayn chuckled. “We all have rough nights. You’re lucky, the break is for a bit more. Rest up and drink lots of water and stuff? Do you need a hangover potion or something? I just brewed some up the other day. They’ve got the stuff you like in them, you know? Then, why don't I make you a cup of tea, yeah? I want to, um, talk about something. ”

 

"I'm wonderful. I’m really, really fine actually. I think what I need; I’m just going to freshen up at home now. Ta," Harry announced. He felt out of place and just wanted to get out of there. Zayn was being all nice even when he might have a sex friend over and Harry could not deal with that shit. Not one bit. He left without even saying goodbye, just barreled out of the flat and apparated back to his flat. He could hear Zayn calling after him, but then there was silence. 

 

..

 

Harry flopped face first into his bed when he got home. He felt like it might be necessary to sleep for three days straight before he could go out again. He was not that old and yet drinking that much made him feel like utter shite the next day, even after having downed three cups of water. He just wanted to cuddle his cat all day long. Speaking of which, he propped himself up on his elbows and glanced around his bedroom, specifically towards Penelope’s bed.

 

"Penelope?" Harry called. Of course she must have run away again. He cursed. He remembered that he had definitely left this morning after feeding her. Harry now had two reasons to be sad. Penelope had gone away right when he needed a pet to cuddle the most. He almost felt like calling his mum. Or maybe Trisha. She was always so lovely to chat with. Plus his own mom had always relied on Trisha and the other boys' mothers to help Harry out with magical stuff.

 

Harry burrowed into his bed and punched at his pillow until it got into the correct shape. He stared at the ceiling for some time. The thing he didn't think about when he imagined his life when he made it big was how lonely it would be. Every time he was single or in London, he remembered how miserable and alone he really was. Even more lonely than his first months at Hogwarts and the first three summers after he started. Going out alone he ran the risk of being mobbed. And he was tired of bumming from friends who just wanted to get papped, friends who didn't treat him like he was “just Harry” anymore. Everyone wanted a piece of him, for their moment of fame, or literally they wanted to rip his hair out. Harry remembered when Polyjuice Parties had been novel and fun. It got sort of strange when he’d show up at parties full of people polyjuiced to look like him. Not that he minded watching himself get it on with himself. It turned out that his paramour of the time was selling his hair to the highest bidders in Knockturn Alley.

 

"Barnabus?" He heard a crash in the foyer. He leaped out of his bed and ambled towards the window where Barnabus normally came through. His owl was there, clutching a parcel in his mouth. It was a large parcel, bigger than ones that Barnabus was typically capable of carrying.

 

“This had better be good,” Harry mumbled as he accepted the parcel. He fed Barnabus loads more treats than normal as well. The old owl definitely deserved it. Barnabus hooted a thank you in response and went to go sit in his log home. Harry sighed and tore at the brown paper and twine that encased the mail. There was a bunch of vials with familiar scrawl written on the label. And a note with his name on it.

 

It was all from Zayn. The vials were mostly various feel good potions and a few hang over remedies. Harry exhaled. What the fuck did this even mean? He catalogued through the potions. A few pepper ups, some dreamless sleep, and even one that he had never heard of before. It was called Harry’s Happy Drink. It was bright green, the color of Harry’s eyes, if he was to guess. He turned over the note and read.

 

_“Hey Haz,_

_You left before I could give you some stuff. I’ve been making it for a while. I figured since you were sort of hung over, I’d give you some of that. Plus I brewed this silly little thing for you. It’s a secret recipe. But it smells like vanilla and lavender and all that shit you like. Don’t worry it’s not drugs or anything weird. Just sort of a calm, mellowing out draught. I’d take it with your afternoon tea. And fret not, I tested it on myself. It won’t kill you._

_We really need to talk. Please._

_xx Zayn”_

 

“Well fuck,” Harry said putting the letter down. Now he was just more confused than ever. He did swallow down a hangover potion though. It was better than all the ones had ever made. And besides, since tour started he hadn’t had time to brew any of his own potions. Perhaps that would help him start thinking much clearer. He tossed the letter into the fire without a second thought. Zayn could wait. Harry wasn't about to let himself be at his beck and call any longer. 

 

.. 

 

"Zayn Malik leaves The Head Boys. During the break of their world tour, it's been announced that Zayn Malik is not continuing on with the band for reasons we hope will become clear very soon. We at  _The Daily Prophet_  have not heard word from the man himself, nor from the other wizards boybanders. What's this mean for the future of this band? An insider tells us The Head Boys will continue on, despite being only half Head Boy now. We're very upset in the offices. But we do commend Zayn for making this decision. It obviously was not easily come by. Next week we'll be playing all your favorite The Head Boys's songs to celebrate all that he has given us."

 

..

 

 

Harry wondered if anyone would come to find him if he never left his flat. He liked it there. He could stay in and have things delivered directly to him for the rest of his life. He could definitely do that. Who cared about The Head Boys? He certainly wouldn’t be that upset if he never had to perform again. Never had to share the same space with someone who clearly liked messing with his head nonstop. Well, it didn't matter anymore though did it? He wouldn't have to ever again. Harry didn't know what was more upsetting, that Zayn left or that Zayn had never told him. Shouldn't he have seen it coming? If he loved Zayn so much, how did he not even know? Was it Harry's fault? Well, that might be a little selfish of Harry to think that. He just couldn't figure out why Zayn hadn't told him. To find out by the paper. To find out by his fucking owl dropping the paper before him. He was furious. So Harry did what he thought would be best. He cut himself off from the wizarding world. Stowed his wand away. Shut off his floo and everything.

 

Harry spent four full days working on cleaning his flat the muggle way. Scrubbing the floors and scouring the nasty bits of crust on the inside of his sink. It was hard work and he sweat a lot. He liked it though, felt all domestic with his hair held back by a scarf and pink rubber gloves that Gemma had once given him as a joke that went up to his elbows. Sometimes, he doubted the efficacy of spells to do the hard work anyways. Where did all the dirt and grime go? Did it just look like it wasn’t there? That is why Harry always kept some cleaning supplies in his flat. In case of emergencies. Once he cleaned it the first time, it wasn't good enough. So he redid everything. 

 

By the end of the whole ordeal, Harry had a ton of trash to take care of and his knees were red from kneeling on the floor and scrubbing away. Also his elbows and neck were sore as all crap from scrubbing. But his flat was probably cleaner than it had ever been before. Plus he felt a strange sense of accomplishment, like he was getting in touch with his roots or something. Thus far, being cut off from the magical world wasn’t too shabby. He watched some muggle TV on his ancient computer and even ordered take out one afternoon.

 

In the late evenings, he would write songs. Scrawled lyrics on random scraps of paper, and on random old envelopes whatever he could find whenever he was afraid he would forget something. It was unlike his normal song writing process. Normally, things didn’t come to him so easy. He had to mull it over and think for ages. This song, or bits of many songs, came quickly and out of nowhere. If they were any good, well Harry would just have to wait and see. But his self-sufficiency surprised him. The only thing that would have made it even better was if his cat Penelope had been around, he had not seen her in a while.

 

On the fifth day of his isolation Harry thought it might be a good idea to go for a walk, just down the street and back. The apartment was starting to smell something awful of cleaning products and stale air. It was an unusual combination. He missed being outside after all. The sun on his face, the wind blowing through his hair. The chatter of other people wasn't terribly much missed. But this horrible sort of loneliness ate at him. Harry shrugged on a jacket and stuffed his hair into a beanie making sure to tuck the long tendrils of hair away. He stared at himself in his sparkling clean mirror. He looked like death. Pale and thinner than he had in years. He frowned, biting at his lower lip as if that would make it look less dry.

 

His walk took him to a park that he had always wanted to check out down the road from the building his flat was in. It was small but tidy. The trees were well manicured and the bushes were arranged in a circular sort of pattern around a small but lively, gurgling fountain. He sat on a bench and closed his eyes. Listened to nature around him and watched a few people pass by on the sidewalk. They didn’t really pay attention to him and he didn’t mind them much. He felt more normal. 

 

Of course, Harry's little sojourn alone was ruined by the time he got to his flat. Zayn was sat on the ground right outside his door with Penelope in his arms, licking at Zayn's hands. It looked like Zayn had gotten some new ink. Not that Harry really cared. He couldn't help but glance at the ink, scrolling over Zayn's hand. He was done messing about with people who clearly didn’t want much to do with him. Zayn stood up when Harry approached.

 

“Hey,” Zayn said. “Where have you been? You’ve not answered any of my fire calls or anything. I knocked on your door several times yesterday. I found Penelope rooting around outside my building the other day. Is everything all right? Are you mad at me?” It was the most Zayn had ever said at the very start of a conversation. Harry was a bit taken aback. He cleared his throat and wished he had spent another two hours or so in the damned park. 

 

"Where have I been?" Harry's voice cracked. Zayn didn't look surprised by his reaction, his eyes were hooded as if he almost expected this sort of vitriol.

 

"I'm," Zayn started to say. Harry's throat seized. Zayn was still so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him. Harry wanted to hit him. The muggle way, he wanted to feel his flesh connecting to Zayn's. Even when he was growing up he had never been involved in any physical altercations. But, his knuckles against Zayn's face, well maybe his side, would feel so good.

 

“Yeah, m’fine. Thanks for bringing her back,” Harry mumbled, he kicked at the door mat. “I’ve been looking for her all over. I mean fucking of course I am. You never even tried to tell me. Fuck you."

 

"Haz, I..." Zayn began. His eyes were watery and he looked so tired. 

 

"I'm being selfish. Sorry. I mean it's what's right for you, I guess. I mean I wouldn't fucking know would I?” It came out sounding so bitter and Harry wanted to take it back as soon as it left his mouth. Harry's hand shook. He wasn't angry at Zayn for leaving The Head Boys. In the back of his mind, he always knew that the band would come apart one day. Just not this soon. He fumbled for the keys to the flat and then let himself in. Zayn was still holding the cat and stood awkwardly by the door waiting for permission to come inside.

 

"You're right. I mean, it was right for me, but..." Zayn trailed off and took a deep breath. Harry wanted to return to the solace of the past few days and forget he even read that damned article in the first place. Then he could pretend for a little while longer. Zayn looked like a pitiful little puppy now, kicked and trying to lick his wounds right outside of Harry's flat. It was embarrassing. And Harry didn't want anyone to catch this and post it in the papers that was for sure. 

 

“Don’t just stand there,” Harry said and Zayn shuffled into his flat. He was wearing baggy joggers and a thick jumper that nearly swallowed him, it was so large. His hair was tied up into a tiny bun on his head. He looked liked Harry felt, tired and beat down, the dark bags under his eyes were more pronounced than usual and he looked almost gaunt, like he hadn’t been eating too much recently.

 

“Want tea?” Harry asked.  It was a force of habit more than anything. He'd rather throw the tea at Zayn's face if he were really honest with himself. Zayn sat at his kitchen table, scratching Penelope behind her ears. Zayn nodded and Harry lit the stove with a match.

 

  
“What are you doing?” Zayn asked.

 

“Making tea, I’ve been doing things the muggle way.” Zayn didn’t have anything to say about that. Instead he tapped a beat on the table. It made Harry somewhat anxious.

 

“So,” Harry said, placing the cup of tea before Zayn, rather violently. He poured himself a cup as well. “You have something you want to say or are you just here to drop off the cat?” Briefly he wondered if Zayn thought he was angry about him leaving the band. Harry's insides were a whirl wind of emotions. He couldn't control it. And he didn't know even what he was feeling in the slightest. There wasn't a name for it. Harry was afraid he was going to lash out, hex Zayn's balls off with some wordless magic or just start crying and never stop. 

 

Zayn nodded but took a sip of tea first. “I feel like, I’ve not been honest with you, Harry.” Harry snorted. “I’m sorry. You know I’m not really good at this.” Harry felt slightly guilty. Zayn was baring himself to him, or seemed to be trying to, at least. But, Harry was tired of being lied to, of the games and whatever was going on with Zayn and Rhys and the hickies the other night.

  
  
“What talking? I’ve seen you do it loads of times before. Spit it out, man.” Harry sighed and slipped into the chair across from Zayn at his kitchen table. 

 

If Zayn was startled at Harry’s small outburst, he didn’t say anything. Zayn just stared at the tea in his cup and ran his fingers over the grooves in the wooden table. “Right, so as I was saying. I’m not too good at telling the truth. I’ve been lying to myself for a few years, you know? Convincing myself that what I was doing, what Rhys and I had, that all of it was right for me.” Harry thought back to his awkward conversation with Rhys at the restaurant in Beverly Hills. Harry wondered if he was talking about Rhys or being in the band. 

 

"Is this about leaving or your ex-boyfriend..."

 

"Will you just let me," Zayn asked, "Let me say something, yeah?"

 

"I think it's pretty simple. I mean, you made it pretty clear to me. Both things. I mean I get it."  Harry blew out a stream of air onto his cup of tea; it was too hot.

 

“Harry, do you know the reason we broke up?” Zayn looked pained as he continued to talk. Harry shrugged. Was he supposed to have known? “Rhys said, well, some of the times we had broken up in the past, were because of my…indiscretions. But when I proposed it was different. He wasn’t upset or anything. It was like he felt bad for me. I don’t know what I was thinking. I loved Rhys. I still love him. This hasn’t been easy for me to deal with. And I don’t think I’ve made very good decisions.”

 

Harry nodded and Zayn took a long sip of his tea. Harry took one himself, nearly burning his tongue in the process. 

 

“Rhys said, he said that the reason he could never marry me was not because he didn’t love me. He did. He said it was because I would never love him as much as he loved me, and because we weren’t actually magic compatible.”

 

“But loads of people can be happy without all of that,” Harry said, “And I thought you don’t even believe in that crap anyways.” It just sounded like Zayn was saying a bunch of stuff to get back in Harry's good graces or whatever. 

 

Zayn shrugged and exhaled. “I don’t know. I mean, don’t you think the reason Rhys and I were so all over the place could have been because of that? I’ve been thinking a lot about it. And I just want to apologize again. You must think I’m the worst, that I was playing with you. I would never."

 

“Don’t you, don't try to put words in my mouth,” Harry said, crossing his arms as if that would protect him from whatever Zayn was really trying to say. He was still trying to process all the stuff that Zayn was saying. It didn’t actually make too much sense. "I, you don't know, you've got no clue what I've been thinking the past few months. Don't pretend like you tried to even ask."

 

"Yeah, about that..." Zayn ran a hand through his hair. His fingers twitched as he did so. "I'm really sorry. I'm a shit friend."

"Hmph."

 

“Anyways, what I meant to say...what I was about to say was that I wanted you to know how much I appreciate you. Haz, you are a really important person in my life and I really trust you. I feel like I’m not as good a friend as you sometimes and it scares me. I don’t know how you’ve put up with me the last few months. I wouldn't have. You’re so lovely and perfect sometimes, I must take you for granted, you know? You’re always there for me and stuff. I’ve always thought you were cool. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you what was going on with me.” The speech sounded rehearsed but Harry could tell it was very genuine.

 

"If you trusted me so much, why?" Harry could feel a headache blooming behind his eyes.

 

"I'm not good at telling you things you don't want to hear," Zayn sounded on the verge of tears. "I can't apologize enough. I tried to tell you so many times. But you, you just, you...we just ended up doing stuff. You know?" 

 

"So it's my fault?" Harry asked, more to himself to Zayn. How could he have been so thick?

 

"No, it's not. I'm an idiot. I'm a coward. I should have told you as soon as I knew. I just. Do you remember when we were first starting the band?" Harry nodded. And Zayn continued, "We were all so happy. And I was happy. And you were glowing all the time. I knew you were born for it. You loved it. And I did too, at first. It was so exciting and new for me. It was like, I don't know, using magic for the first time, you know?" Zayn took a long drink of his cup of tea.

 

"But, it's tiring. And I'm not complaining about the opportunities we've had at all. But I never thought we'd make it big. We were just a silly band, we were only kids. I had other dreams too? I wanted to work with animals and stuff. I don't even remember what I wanted anymore. And that terrified me." 

 

"Yeah, I guess." 

 

  
"I'm not good like you are Harry. I can't separate and compartmentalize my life. It was too overwhelming. Trying to live like that...I've always known that some part of me wasn't made to handle all of it." 

 

“I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I wasn't, we weren't enough. I don't even know how but I love you, Zayn. And I’ve never thought that you’re a bad person. And I don't, I'm not angry that you left, you have to know that. I mean I am a little bit. It's more because you didn't fucking say anything. You know, I will always love you, no matter what choices you make.” It came out as easily as it always had. The admission of love. Harry would have regretted it had he not seen the fond expression on Zayn’s face. A warmth spread from his gut to the rest of his body that Harry tried desperately to ignore but he couldn’t. The very core of him liked to admit this, to tell Zayn that he loved him, and he had always given away his love too easily

 

“I love you too, Harry.” Harry’s heart was hammering in his chest when Zayn looked at him. His eyes were so intense, burning bright and trustworthy. Harry couldn’t bear to look away from him. “As a friend and I love you as more than that too. I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize it. And I’m sorry that I was such a complete tit about all of this. I'm sorry I won't be there with you. I know it's hard to decompress sometimes. You were always there for me. I'm just, I'm not as good as you are.”

 

"You shouldn't compare us, it's like we're two different people." Harry shook his head. Zayn always seemed to compare himself to the boys, in the most minute of ways. It must have torn him up inside to do that for so many years. 

 

"I guess you're right. You're always right..." Zayn said.

 

“You’re actually the dumbest Ravenclaw I’ve ever met. I think, you're perfect as you are. You aren't good, because you're better,” Harry said. It felt like the air was finally let back into the room. Well, some of it at least, enough for Harry to breathe. He sighed and Zayn got up to hug him. It was a short embrace. And rather than feeling horny or like he wanted to cry or anything, Harry just wanted to sleep. “Do you wanna sleep together? Like actually sleep?”

 

“Yeah, maybe,” Zayn laughed, finally. It sounded like the best music Harry had ever heard. He almost cried. “Yeah I do. I’ve been sleeping like total crap without you, babe.”

 

“This doesn’t mean we’re all better,” Harry said when they were finally settled in his bed, Zayn wrapped around Harry’s back. “I mean, like, can we talk about it more later, yeah? I’m really sleepy.”

 

“As you wish,” Zayn whispered, placing a small kiss behind Harry’s earlobe.

 

..

 

Harry woke up slowly. It was so warm and he felt so comfortable. Like he was being smothered by warmth and sunshine. He stretched his arms as far as he could. There was a mouth, a hot wet pair of lips, on his cock, and they belonged to Zayn. He slapped at Zayn’s cheek to stop him. Zayn looked up, eyes hooded. Harry finally grabbed Zayn and pulled him up to kiss him. Sighing into the kiss, Harry could feel Zayn’s insistent erection pressing into his leg. This was a much better way to wake up than the last time Zayn had been over at his flat.

 

“Good morning,” Harry whispered. Zayn mumbled something unintelligible into Harry’s neck, followed by a few licks and bites. Everywhere that Zayn touched him felt perfect and surreal. The way Zayn’s hands fit on the gentle curve of Harry’s waist, how Harry loved the feel of his fingers dragging through Zayn’s hair, the feel of Zayn’s stubble against areas of sensitive skin. Harry traced the fluttering heart over Zayn’s hipbone, the black of the ink wavered under the pad of his finger.

 

“It’s ten at night babe,” Zayn said, rubbing his stubbled chin against Harry’s pectoral. Harry shivered in response. It was rough and lovely. Harry had always thought Zayn to be kind of cat like, reclusive at times, but wanting attention on occasion. Now as Zayn lapped at his nipple, he couldn’t get the image out of his mind. Haphazardly, he wondered whether or not Zayn would be opposed to wearing a pair of spelled cat ears and a tail, but of course he was a little distracted by Zayn’s hands and mouth wandering all over his body.

 

“Let’s play a game,” Harry nosed at Zayn’s cheek. Zayn smelled like the Amortentia potion Harry had brewed when he was in sixth year potions class. Like grass after it rains, cardamom, a hint of orange, and something, a musk that was uniquely Zayn.

 

“Yeah? What kind of game?” Zayn asked, tweaking one of Harry’s nipples.

 

“The kind where I get to ask you questions and you get to ask me questions, and we get to do sexy things when we answer them,” Harry explained. It sounded more exciting when he had thought about it in his head, but Zayn didn’t seem to mind. He seemed to rather like that idea judging by the way he propped his head up by his arm and rested his chin on Harry’s shoulder. “Okay, so like one of us requests a fun thing and the other one gets to ask that person a question. Sound alright?”

 

“I’ll go first. Umm, and I’ll start off easy, I want a kiss. Ask me a question.”

 

“When did you first know you loved me?” Harry asked.

 

“Hmm,” Zayn looked thoughtful for a moment before smiling, “You see, I met this dumb kid on the train once. He was stupid and had the most amazing curls I had ever seen in my life. Plus he couldn’t eat a damned chocolate frog without getting it all over his face. My mum told me I had to watch out for this weird muggle kid. But I maybe thought he was about the cutest thing in the world.” Harry shoved Zayn playfully.

 

“You’re lying.”

 

“Maybe. Maybe I’m not. I think I knew, when, like I really knew, you’ve always been there for me…even when I did bad things. I guess then.” Zayn looked a little embarrassed so Harry planted a big wet on his tummy, blowing on it to make fart noises.

 

“Hey, that’s no fair, I wanted a real kiss.” Harry could feel Zayn swatting at his head.

 

“You didn’t specify where you wanted it, Zayn. Gotta get better at playing the game,” Harry laughed. "Let me give you a hickie?" 

 

"Are you mad at me for leaving? Will you ever forgive me?"

 

Harry bit his lip. Yes, he wanted to scream yes a million times over. Niall could play bass sort of, but Zayn. Zayn was such a huge part of them. "No. Eventually I think. I'm not good at holding grudges, you know that." Zayn was quiet and just bared his throat to Harry. A vulnerable gesture. Harry did what he knew how to best and the only thing he could. He sucked on Zayn's pulse point as if this would convince him to stay, as if this would convince him everything would be okay.

 

"I want you to go again. Ask again." Zayn's voice was barely a whisper.

 

"Are you happy?"

 

"Yes," Zayn sighed. He brushed his hair out of his face. "I am now." He pressed a kiss to the tip of Harry's nose. And even though it was brief and infinitesimal compared to their earlier snogging, it was perfect. 

 

“Okay, my turn. I want you to let me blow you.”

 

“I’m fine with that…Always thought you had good dick sucking lips if I’m honest. Now let me think of a good question. Do you remember, back at Hogwarts, when you walked in on me and that bird, what’s her face? Veronica. Like what did you think of me? I was so afraid you were going to rat on me to my girlfriend of the time…”

 

“Oh my god,” Harry blushed, “Veronica? Of course I remember that. It was like one of the formative experiences in my youth. She was so hot. But like, I had never seen another dick before in my life. So it was like really embarrassing for me. Of all the cocks I’ve ever seen in my life, yours is definitely top five. So pretty, like the rest of you.”

 

“You’re ridiculous Haz,” Zayn said, slapping a hand over his eyes. Harry took that opportunity to get Zayn’s prick in his hand, examine it up close for the first time. His mouth nearly watered at the sight of it. He reckoned his fifteen year old self was probably incredibly jealous. The vein that had plagued so many of Harry’s wet dreams for so long was right before him. So maybe he had hyped it up a little too much, but it was lovely. He ran the flat of his tongue over it and heard Zayn’s choking noises. Finally, he took the whole of Zayn’s prick into his mouth. The weight of it on his tongue felt amazing. Harry sighed into it and pressed his nose into the small thatch of pubic hair at the base of Zayn’s cock. He pressed his fingertips into Zayn’s hipbones feeling his pulse through the thin bit of skin. Finally, he pulled off once Zayn was sufficiently erect and begging for it bad.

 

“My turn?” Zayn asked, his voice was distracted.

 

“Can I ride you?” Zayn asked before nipping at Harry’s collarbone. “I want to ride you.”

 

“Yes,” Harry exclaimed, running his hands over Zayn’s ribcage, grabbing at the soft skin of his ass. “Oh my god, please.”

 

“Wait, wait a tic. What’s your question first?” Zayn paused, his hand wrapped around the base of Harry’s cock. Harry frowned at that. He felt like he should definitely have more questions but nothing came to mind right away.

 

“Did you sleep with someone the night of the club thing?”

 

“No,” Zayn said, “What are you talking about?” He looked as confused as Harry had been feeling about the whole thing.

 

“I mean, like you had all these hickies and stuff. And you looked all messy and…you know you wouldn’t let me into your room… Zayn, why didn’t you stay that one night?” Zayn looked thoughtful but he wasn’t angry so Harry was glad.

 

“First of all, I swear I didn’t sleep with any one. It’s only been you since like last spring. And I don’t know what you’re talking about. You gave those hickies to me at the club, you idiot.”

 

“I did?”

 

“Yeah, you sucked all over my neck for like a good twenty minutes. Didn’t you read the papers the next day? There’s photographic evidence. I kept one of the snippets, actually.”

 

“Wank material?”

 

“Maybe. And I’m sorry for leaving that night. And for disappearing,” Zayn pumped Harry’s cock a few times to keep him from going soft. Harry pouted, that seemed like cheating to him, he could hardly pay attention to what Zayn was saying. “I’ve not got a really good excuse. I was scared. And I didn’t know if it was a one time thing, or if you were just trying to be a really good friend. You know? You say you love me so much but you tell a lot of people you love them. And you’re always papped out with loads of different blokes and witches. I know I don’t actually believe what they say. But I always doubt that you really want me. That you want me the way that I want you. And I couldn't handle the thought of you, reading about you from a far, knowing that you were going places. And I'd be at home on my couch. I needed to sort my shit out you know?”

 

“I’m…I don’t know what to say. I always thought it was really obvious, the me liking you part. I mean Rhys and stuff, he tried to tell me, I think. In LA, he like said all this weird stuff about how he knew I loved you or something. But I thought he was trying to stake claim on you, yeah? I thought you, I thought that I wasn't good enough to confide in. Like you didn't trust me anymore.”

 

“Harry, never. Yeah, I went to talk to him when I disappeared. So you wouldn’t have been able to send me mail or something. I portkeyed out to Seattle by myself. And he set me right. He knows me better than anyone, well, except for you obviously. I’m sorry Harry. I should have left a note at least. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

 

"Did you talk about the band too?" 

 

"It may have come up. But I'm not a child. I knew leaving you guys wasn't going to fix my relationship with Rhys. I'm not that inane. Sometimes, I feel not myself. A lot, actually. I get so wrapped up in it all. It's tough. It feels like I'm in a full body bind. I'm not like you Harry. You read what they say about you and you don't care."

 

"That's not true. It hurts me too."

 

"I know. And I love you because you can bounce back. I just couldn't any more." 

 

"Zayn, that's why I love you. Because you know yourself. And I could never be mad at you for doing that. I'm sorry if it came across like I was angry. It wasn't because you left." 

 

"I'm glad we're talking about this, Harry," Zayn said, "It felt terrible keeping this from you. Keeping myself from you. I didn't want to hurt you. I thought you wouldn't want me if I wasn't the me that I've been the past five years."

 

“Never.” Harry said, rolling Zayn over onto his back, straddling his midsection. “What can I do to make you forget about the rest of the world?” He licked a stripe up Zayn’s neck, which tasted as good, if not better, than what he remembered of the night at the Funky Buddha.

 

“You could stop wasting time and fuck me already,” Zayn grunted, pushing Harry off and onto his back. Harry felt the tingle of magic and soon his hands were glued to the bed above his head. Zayn crouched before him and lapped lazily at the head of his cock.

 

“I’m already good,” Zayn’s voice was low, his lips brushing against the head of Harry’s prick with each word. Harry felt another current of Zayn’s magic washing over his body, settling on his prick, which was suddenly coated with a generous amount of oil. Zayn brushed his hair behind his ear as he settled on his knees above Harry. Harry gasped, and bit down on his bottom lip when the tip of his cock brushed against Zayn’s slick hole. Zayn sunk down causing Harry to let out an embarrassing wail.

 

“You’re so tight,” Harry said, wishing that he could take Zayn’s cock into his hand, feel the pulse and the thick of it in his palm. Zayn grinded down on Harry's cock mercilessly,  bracketing Harry’s hipbones with his firm hands. Harry could feel the bruises forming under Zayn's fingertips but he didn't care, he wanted more and more of it. The first roll of Zayn’s hips nearly sent Harry over the edge, but Zayn clenched, causing Harry to moan shamelessly into the crook of his elbow. 

 

“Stop, I want to hear you,” Zayn said, thrusting downwards again. Zayn was so flawless and he looked stunning, sweat glistening on his chest, his face flushed almost crimson, lips parted slightly. If Harry had ever believed Zayn looked beautiful before, it didn’t compare to this moment. Zayn thrust into his own fist, occasionally biting at his bottom lip. Zayn was so alive, visceral, his tattoos fluttering and ebbing and flowing, the snake curling around his bicep and recoiling on Zayn’s shoulder. Fucking Zayn, no, making love to Zayn was a complete sensory overload.

  
“Do you want to come?” Zayn asked, placing a hand on each side of Harry’s body, leaning forward and licking at his lips. Harry nodded feverishly, his hands grasping the air but wrists still stuck to the bed.

 

“Let me touch you, please.” Zayn smiled and soon Harry was reaching for Zayn’s anything. Harry’s fingertips grazed Zayn’s flanks, slipping from rib to rib.

 

“I asked if you wanted to come, Harry,” Zayn repeated, rocking his hips.

 

“Yes,” Harry managed before coming inside Zayn. Harry was in a daze as he watched Zayn jerk himself off, Harry’s softening cock still inside him. A few quick flicks of his wrist and Zayn was coming all over Harry’s chest and abdomen. Harry’s butterfly tattoo fluttered in response. Zayn collapsed atop Harry’s chest, whispering meaningless words into his clavicle. Zayn was sweaty and gross but he smelled amazing. Harry pressed small kisses to Zayn’s chin and every part of his face he could reach. Zayn, the ever efficient wizard he was, cast a cleaning charm before Harry could even think to retrieve his wand from the box he had stowed it in a few days before.

 

"Should I call you Zain now?" Harry asked curiously. 

 

"Love, you can call me whatever you want, as long as we can do that again." Zayn, no Zain smiled at him. Harry felt like a kid again, what they had was a secret that was for sure. He wasn't so thick that he'd have to ask about that. "Let's never not talk again." 

 

"I love you Zayn. But I love Zain more."

 

"You're a fucking idiot Harry." Zayn was blushing. Harry rubbed his cheek against Zayn's slightly stubbled one. 

 

"You love me too." Harry pouted.

 

"I can't help it. I feel like I always have."  

 

..

 

“I had the once in a life time opportunity to speak with Harry Styles,  Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne and Niall Horan of the famed W-Pop band The Head Boys the other day. They’re all very charming and loads better looking in person if you ask me. The Head Boys have been notoriously stingy with interviews in the past few years, especially for _The Daily Prophet_. With the departure of Zayn Malik it looked even bleaker for us. But Zayn came in to our surprise. Nearly fell over when I saw him. He looks bloody better than he has ever. Proper glowing and all. We're obviously very curious to hear what he has to say. At the end of the article, we asked some of your questions from the write in contest. Their album “Quattuor” has been out for a few months now, and the latest single is called “Amortentia” written about our very own Harry Styles. Get it for free with the code at the end of this article.

 

The boys came into the room in a jumble of noise and limbs. We have decided to see if they can all fit on a single couch.  They do. They’re all dressed rather well for a quick interview, hair all done up, the whole lot. They’re quite the fashion trendsetters in the wizarding world as of late. Especially, muggle born Harry Styles, who has a particular flair for not buttoning his shirts up at all.

 

I: So, tell me, how’s the tour been? It must be strange to be back in England after all of that.

LT: Really great. Fans are bloody amazing.

HS: Yes, this tour has been particularly exciting for us. Touring North Africa was rather incredible. Never thought I’d have the chance to ever go there.

LP: We are so thankful for our fans. Can’t stress that enough. The tour has been bloody great. A lot of fun. Lots of new venues, huge crowds, and just great times.

 

I: Now, Harry, you’re a muggle born, how do you think that’s affected your perception of music in the wizarding world?

HS: That’s a good question. Obviously, when I was at Hogwarts I had to be introduced to all the popular bands and what not. Actually, Zayn was one of the people who helped me out there.

NH: We’ve all played a part in Harry’s magical music education, I reckon. It was sort of fun introducing him to all the greatest hits.

 

I: Liam, you and Louis work a lot on writing the music for the albums. How’s that going? Is a fifth one going to come out any time soon?

LP: That’s top secret. If I told you, we’d have to kill you.

LT: Come on, don’t be such a bore Liam. I’ll tell you this, we’ve been doing quite a bit of writing. Our Harry here has even written a few songs. He’s learning how to the play the guitar even.

HS: Hey!

LT: What? You’re not half bad if you ask me.

 

I: How do you think the music business has changed since you guys first entered the scene?

LP: There’s definitely a lot more effects. Now that we’re older and know our sound better, we’ve been doing a lot more experimenting with magic and stuff on stage. Just to make things look cooler and transitions smoother.

LT: Yeah, that’s a lot of what we focus on during the tour. We’ve got some new tricks up our sleeves always. Don’t want to be seen as an outdated band. We’re constantly coming up with novel things.

NH: I agree. That’s been a pretty exciting part of being in the band. I love The Head Boys and innovating, stuff like that’s been really good. Keeps things more interesting if you ask me.

 

I: Now, Zayn, I'm sure you have a lot on your mind, but I don't want to pressure you to say anything about it.

ZM: It's fine. The decision that was made...was an extremely difficult one. I will always love the boys and never regret my time spent with the band. I don't regret anything at all. Have I loved every single minute of it? No. That's why this decision was tough. I want to thank the boys and the fans for always supporting me. I have had a good run. But I want to be a regular wizard for the foreseeable future. 

 

I: Zayn, a lot of changes for you. You recently broke up with Rhys Zabini. Would you care to share anything about that? I know it must have been hard. You two were so close for the past few years.

ZM: Of course, break ups are always difficult. It wasn't related to the band or anything however. My work and private life have always been separate. Rhys does very important work in Muggle Relations. He needs a great support system and I just wasn't able to provide for him. We’re quite amicable still. He’s a really good guy.

I: Thank you for being here today. It means a lot to a lot of people. 

 

I: So any new love interests? I hear Sophiam is still going strong. Harry, were you not involved with Persephone Greengrass for some time?

LP: Sophia and I are amazing. She's brilliant. I am so lucky. 

HS: Yes. We were together last spring. However, we are no longer an item. New love interests, no. I recently however reconnected with someone from Hogwarts. I’m not really sure where it’s going to go. But I have to say I’m really happy. It’s nice being with someone who knew you before all the fame and stuff. There’s no pretense or anything.

I: That’s great. Do we know the lucky he or she?

HS: He’s actually asked me to keep it on the down low for now. As you can imagine, there’s a lot of drama and such involved. And we’re just trying to keep it private for now.

 

I: I’ve been dying to know myself, what has been the hardest part of being in this band?

LP: I think it’s a lot more work than people might think.

LT: That’s for sure. Some fans like to think that since we’re all wizards with full educations (except for our Harry) and stuff, that it’s easy. But we have worked very hard to get where we are today.

HS: Of course, we’re very grateful for all the opportunities that the band has afforded us. It’s not every day you get to travel the world and meet so many amazing people. The hardest part is also having a private life I think.

NH: Also, don’t get to get back home as much as I would like. But other than it’s pretty amazing. I definitely don’t have any complaints. The lads have always been like a family to me.

 

I: Now, we’ve got some questions from the fans! Mira Longbottom wants to know if you’ll come sing at her father’s birthday party?

LT: Why not? The Longbottoms have always been good to music and what not.

 

I: Young James Flubberstone wants to know who in the band uses the magic the most often?

LT: Well, that’s not a very fair question, now is it? It’s very clearly me.

LP: I’d say Niall is actually pretty far up there too.

NH: Are you kidding Liam? It’s definitely Louis. Louis here, likes to play tricks on Liam all the time. Get him to do stuff for him. So without a doubt.

HS: Louis.

 

I: Um, Miss Matilda Vane wants to know if you had to snog one other member of the band who would it be?

LT: I’m going to have to pass on this one. It’s quite a tough question.

LP: Actually, I think Zayn and I might have kissed once…I don’t really remember. But that answer doesn't count does it. Crap.

HS: What?

I: Zayn feel free to chip in. It's still a group interview. 

ZM: At Hogwarts, once Liam and I snogged. But of course, if I had to choose, I’d definitely pick our Harry. Rumor has it he’s a very good kisser.

HS: Zayn, I choose Zayn.

NH: Ergh, I guess all of them. I love them all very much.

 

I: What’s next for The Head Boys? Fifth album, another world tour? New line of potions?

NH: Well, that’s a tough question to answer. 

LP: Niall’s right. Without Zayn we will never be the same.

LT: I’d like The Head Boys release a line of candies or something. I’ve always been interested in making a venture with the Weasley group.

I: Maybe a jewelry line. My, Harry, that is a fine ring you have on there.  Can I get a closer look?

HS: Sure.

ZM: It matches his eyes.

I: Lovely ring. Quite beautiful. Never seen anything like it. What is that green stone? It’s so exquisite.

HS: Um, apparently the ring was fired by one of the last great dragons. The stone is a part of her heart I believe.

I: That’s beautiful. Wow. Whoever gave that to you must love you a lot.

 

I: Any last words for the readers?

LT: Buy our album!

LP: What he said.

NH: Please look into donating to the Elf Benefit concert.

HS: Peace and love. 

ZM: Thank you for a wild five years. 

 

The lads had to go off for another press meeting. But it was lovely having them over. I still can’t believe that lovely ring that Harry Styles has. I’m going to have to get one of my own. I found myself tearing up a little bit at the boys very obvious love for Zayn Malik and his importance to the band. Somehow, only Harry teared up a tiny bit at the end. Remember you can still get tickets to their Elf Rights Benefit concert, which is coming up soon. There are still a few dates open for that. The headlining show, of course, is at their alma mater, Hogwarts. They have actually not performed there since the band’s inception. We’ll be raffling off some tickets over the next few weeks, so make sure to grab the next issue of the _Prophet_."

 

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. If you have any questions about this universe please let me know. :)  
> also the title means "I shall find a way or make one"
> 
> *gives you all the most hugs*


End file.
